Taking the Initiative
by Dorian Blackthorne theowl
Summary: When Prof. Charles Xavier and two of his students visit LA for a genetics conference, things take a few unexpected turns. BtVS/Ats/X-men. Heavy editing done to Chapters 4, 6, and 7. Epiloge added. See Authors Notes for details. Please R&R.
1. Travels and Puzzles

 Prologue   Memories and Musings 

_Dinner had been wonderful. _

_Joyce couldn't remember seeing a spread like this short of a major family holiday. And the food had been marvelous. She'd called her nephew spur of the moment when she found out that she had to travel to New York City to examine a new shipment for her store. The lot had been damaged in transit, and the insurance company wanted her opinion of how bad it was. Scott had asked her to stay out in Westchester at the private school where he taught, and offered to run her back and forth and even show her the city. And now, after a meal that was fit for royalty, she mused about how well her orphaned nephew had done in his life. Joyce hadn't told Scott that she and Hank were getting divorced yet. The shipment she'd come to inspect was for her new shop, in Sunnydale. She'd write him about it when it was all over. Keep this visit happy, after all he had a good job, and a second family that seemed to truly care for him. The professor seemed to regard him almost as his own son, and that lovely African lady (Ororo?), she carried herself like a Goddess, but Joyce could tell how much she loved the people around her. And then there was Jean. _

_A knock came at the bedroom door._

_"Joyce," came a soft voice from behind the wood, "I just wanted to make sure you didn't need anything."_

_Speak of the devil, Joyce thought._

_"Actually, Jean," she answered, "I would like to talk to you for a few minutes, if you don't mind."_

_The redhead poked her head through the door, smiling. _

_"I assume this is the 'You'd better be good to my favorite nephew' talk?" she asked._

_"What can I say," Joyce responded with a smile of her own, "I'm protective of my family."_

Joyce Summers shook herself from the memories of a few years earlier. Looking down at the letter in her hand, she wondered briefly if her nephew remembered having two cousins, or only one. The whole mind boggling fact of Dawn's existence was a constant source of confusion. Everyone remembered her, Joyce even remembered giving her birth. But none of that was real. Even though Joyce could go upstairs to Dawn's room, and the Statue of Liberty that Scott had sent back for her would be sitting on the dresser, it never really happened.

Joyce stood, taking the letter she had just finished and folding it neatly before putting it into an envelope. Dawn was real. Now. And that's the only thing that mattered to Joyce Summers, forty-three year old divorced mother of two (one, no dammit, two), owner of the best Antique and Art shop in Sunnydale, California (oh, be honest Joycey, the ONLY Antique and Art shop in good old Sunnydale). She was protective of her family, and Dawn was family. 

She put the name on the envelope before she realized that she had left the address book upstairs in her bedside table. She set the envelope down on the table in the hallway, planning to address it later. Right now, she just wanted to rest for a little while. She ran her hand through the sandy hair with it's very few strands of grey, the surgery had been harder on her than she would have liked. She was just tired far too much of the time. 

She was standing in front of the sofa when it hit. A sharp pain in her head, not far from the scar left by the operation. As she fell backwards onto the couch, one thought went through her mind.

"…who'll take care of my babies?"

 I  Travels and Puzzles 

 "So lemme get this straight," the man known as Logan started, propping his legs up on the mahogany coffee table. "Yer goin' to LA to see a former student of yours give a lecture on Genetics?"

"Henry McCoy, yes," answered Professor Charles Xavier, headmaster of the Xavier School for Gifted Children in Salem Center, New York. He had a presence that demanded attention, and received it. Even in his wheel chair he made an imposing man, dressing only in the finest suits, his baldness seeming simply to amplify the air of intelligence around him. And his eyes were the piercing kind of blue that seemed to look right through any pretense that might be directed towards them. Most people, even those who had known him for years, called him "Professor."

Logan was not most people. Cracking open the beer he'd brought into the meeting with him, he took a deep drink, ran his hand through his thick black hair with it's unruly wing like tips. He looked out of place in this perfect Victorian study. His rugged features with the ever-present sideburns and five o'clock shadow, and his outdoors way of dressing sat in stark contrast to the surroundings.

"And yer takin' Red and Scooter here with ya, right Chuck?" he gestured towards two of the others in the meeting, a tall young man with boy-scout good looks and a deep red pair of glasses named Scott Summers, and a statuesque red-headed, green-eyed woman named Jean Grey. As much as Logan looked out of place, they both looked like they belonged here. Summers exuded an air of control, with short cut brown hair and his dark turtleneck, every bit what one would expect from a teacher in a private school such as this. Grey, in her red sweater and green slacks, wore her reading glasses to the meeting, giving her the appearance of the doctor she was. Unlike Summers, however, the slightest mischievous streak could just be seen behind her eyes.

"Of course, I wouldn't dream of traveling alone, Logan." Xavier smiled, "I'm sure everything will be fine." 

"So tell me, Professor, how is Henry these days?" asked Ororo Munroe, looking, as always, what could only be called regal. Her white hair and blue eyes set a striking counter to the dark brown of her skin. She looked and sounded like African royalty. Wearing one of her long skirts and a loose flowing blouse of matching blue, one could easily tell how she demanded nothing but the best from her students.

"Doing well, I understand," Xavier said, "He's been quite busy since the last paper he published. Seems the medical community is in something of an uproar over his ideas." He paused for a moment, "I do regret that he felt the need to continue his work elsewhere, however. Such a brilliant mind could do wonders with the school. And his experiences would make him very understood by the children."

"Wha' 'appen to 'im?" Asked the last meeting member, Remy LeBeau. Remy was the youngest of the faculty, and the newest. Not an actual teacher, like the others, he acted more as an overseer for the student body. His appearance matched his Cajun dialect. Easygoing and charming, he would almost always be found in jeans and a tee shirt, both in immaculate condition, and he kept his long auburn hair tied back in a ponytail. His eyes were almost always hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, which protected his sensitive eyes from the light. They also kept the fact that his eyes were black where they should be white, and deep blood red in the iris from being public knowledge. Without that, you couldn't tell by looking at him that he was a mutant.

In fact, everyone in the room was a mutant. To be precise, everyone in the school was a mutant. That's why the school existed. Over the past few decades, more and more children had developed unique abilities or attributes, which set them apart from the majority of the human race. Some were amazing, some were horrifying, and almost all were shunned in society.

Mutants were, depending on whom you asked, considered either the next step in human evolution, or the deadliest threat to the human race. 

"Henry is a brilliant man, and was a brilliant youth," the Professor answered. "But he had a rude awakening in his junior year of high school. His mutation gave him greatly enhanced strength and agility, and a somewhat simian form." Xavier continued.

"Thing is," Scott picked up, "He was from Dundee, Illinois. Dundee is a prime example of the small Midwestern community. Everyone thought he was a bit misshapen, but was perfectly willing to overlook it because they all knew his family."

"Let's not forget team pride," added Jean.

"Pride?" Logan asked.

"When he entered eighth grade," Xavier said, "He tried out for the school football team, and rapidly became its star. He took the school to three years worth of championships." The Professor rested his head on his hands for a moment before continuing, "He was a local hero. No one looked down on him, despite his appearance. He was a top level athlete, and with a grade point average of 4.0, he was scheduled to graduate a year early." 

"So what changed?" asked Logan.

"Recruiters came from several colleges for the Homecoming game of his junior year," Xavier replied. "Not one stayed for the start of the game. They all commented that having a mutant on the team was not fair, and that Henry had no business playing."

"Hank was shattered," said Jean. "He knew he had an edge because of his physical form, but honestly thought it was the years of exercise and practice that gave him his skill." She paused for a minute, then continued, "He'd never even heard the word 'Mutant' spoken aloud before that night. He quit school and locked himself in his room the next day."

"His parents found our number in a national paper," Xavier added, "We finally convinced Henry to join the school. But that episode scarred him beyond what we thought. He began work on retro-genetic therapy to reverse the mutation process. His brilliance is unmatched, and he arrived at the experimental stage after two years. Knowing that I would disagree with this method, he left the school rather than cause dissention."

"You'd disagree?" came Remy's voice.

"I'm a firm believer in letting nature run her course," replied Xavier. "But I can understand his drive, and would not have interfered. There could be other benefits to such work, but I digress. Henry and I worked together for quite some time to discover the nature of human mutation, and perhaps find a method of determining what the nature of this evolution process would ultimately be. We even published a few papers together, and one with Dr. Moira McTaggart. When he discovered the potential of retro therapy, he felt that he could best proceed elsewhere."

"It didn't take long for Hank to land a position with Washington University Medical Center," Jean continued the story, "He's been there for the past few years, although he's stayed in touch with all of us, and even come up for a few holidays with his parents." 

"Seems ta me he's just chasing a dream we all probably though about a time or two," said Logan, standing up, "I'm headed to the kitchen for a fresh brew," he walked towards the door, "Nice to know he's still tight with his folks. Doesn't work that way for everyone…" he commented as he exited the room.

"He's right you know," commented Ororo, "We all would have liked to rid ourselves of our gifts at one time or another." She stood up, and faced the Professor smiling, "I believe that you and Henry have worked out whatever differences you may have had."

Xavier had a smile of his own as he turned towards her, "Indeed. I trust you three can look after the school in our absence?"

"Of course, Professor. Classes are done, and some of the students have gone for the summer. I think that Logan, Remy and I can handle the rest."

"It's settled then," Xavier concluded, "Remy, would you be so kind as to bring the van around and drive us to Laguardia? Our flight leaves in a few hours."

"Oui, Professor," the Cajun replied, "Be out front in ten minutes, mes amis."

************

"I give up!" 

Cordelia Chase looked up from the dusty tome she had been studying for the last hour and a half. "I can't find any thing like that bone…whatisit?" She was an attractive woman in her early twenties, with short brown hair and a smile that could illuminate a cave. However, there was a look in her dark eyes that gave her age beyond her years, as if she had seen all of human suffering at once. Which in fact, she had. She received visions that the firm she worked for used to aid people in need. These visions came with a severe price, the kind of pain that has to be experienced to be believed. 

Wesley Windham Price looked up at her over the top of his glasses, "Shuriken, also called a Chinese throwing star," he spoke like a teacher, particularly with his English accent. He held the object up to the light, studying the bone artifact. "Nothing here either," he commented. "Why don't we take a break for a while." He stood and stretched his lean frame, placing his glasses more firmly on his nose. "I don't think the books are going anywhere this evening." Although he had taken to dressing less like a Yale librarian in the last year, his appearance still screamed "Prep school" at the top of its lungs.

The two co-workers made their way up to the front of their offices in the Hyperion Hotel lobby. "This is not what I had in mind when I moved to L.A." Cordelia sighed. 

"The mind numbing research or the head splitting visions?" asked Wesley. 

"Take your pick," she muttered, pouring herself some coffee.

The phone rang at that point, and Cordelia reached over to pick it up, 

"Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless," she said into the mouthpiece.

"Cordy, it's me," came the reply,

"Angel!" she turned to Wesley, "They're checking in, do we have anything?"

"Not unless you count eyestrain," the Englishman replied, "Tell them to come on back, we're out of ideas."

"You and Gunn head back in," said Cordelia into the phone, "We've researched ourselves out."

"Yeah, we haven't found anything out here either," came the reply. "Not even another one of those Shuriken. We'll be there in five."

"'Kay, bye," she turned her attention back to Wesley as she hung up the phone. "They can't find anything at the scene either. Is it me, or do we not have any idea what we're looking for?"

"What we're looking for," started Wesley, "Is some evidence of what's been happening in the Los Angeles demon population. According to the Host, several of his regulars have simply stopped showing up."

"Demon hunters?" offered Cordelia as the two made their way back to the stacks of books.

"Not unless they're taking the bodies with them," Wesley sighed, rubbing his right temple, "I've never known one to do that. So far, we're missing at least eight known demons in the downtown area. None that were actively threatening to anyone. And the only clue we've found so far is this thing. A Shuriken made of bone." He pointed towards the eight-pointed throwing star. "I honestly don't know what we're facing, or if we're facing anything."

Cordelia sighed and picked up a fresh book. "Well," she muttered, "at least I don't have the migraine from hell to deal with…"

************

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Dr. Henry McCoy."

Applause thundered through the ampitheater of the hotel as Dr. McCoy came to the podium to deliver the opening statements for the First Annual United Medical Association Conference on Human Mutation. He was an imposing figure, although he only stood at five foot, ten inches, he easily weighed two hundred eighty pounds. His shoulders were broad and thick, as were the arms attached to them. His arms also reached further down his leg than most, ending just above the knee in huge, dense hands. His legs were a little bit short for his form, giving him a slightly hunched appearance. Added to this, a thick patch of ruffled brown hair, with an overhanging ridge above his eyes, and one could easily understand his high school nickname of "Beast." In a move that was almost comical, given his appearance, he pulled a small, fine wired pair of glasses from the pocket of the custom tuxedo he wore, and put them on his face.

"Honored guests," he started, with a smooth rich voice that sounded as if it should be reading the Bard, "Thank you for your accolades. But at this conference, I am one of many who should be so richly welcomed. All of you here have studied the nature of Human Mutation, and all of you have been equally baffled, and amazed, by what you've discovered. As a dear friend of mine once told the Senate, we stand on the edge of the next stage of human evolution. I once studied to find a way to reverse this process, to return the genie to the bottle, and reverse the nature of evolution itself. I now believe that to be erroneous thought. We cannot change what is, and Pandora's box has long since been opened. It is my fervent hope that this conference, and others that will indubitably follow, will instead open the doors for new hope for those who discover, as I did, that they are different. For unlike myself, some Mutants are changed in ways that are dangerous to themselves and those around them. Only by understanding the cause of the mutation process, do we have any hope of helping our children to become what they are truly meant to be, and therefore give them the means to secure their own destinies." He paused for a moment, then pulled the glasses down his nose and looked over them at the audience. "But there will be enough time to discuss issues like this over the next week. Right now," he gestured broadly with both arms, indicating the hotel around them, "The bar is open, the hourdeoves are wonderful, and it's time we got to know each other!"

As the crowd applauded once more, one man said quietly from the shadows where no one could see him "Yes, Dr. McCoy. We should get to know each other."

************

"Well, Henry," commented Professor Xavier, "I must say that I am impressed with your work."

"Thank you Professor," came the reply, "I was worried about my appearance and how that would affect the reception of my work by my esteemed colleges," Henry McCoy paused for a second before continuing, allowing the image of a Neanderthal in a tuxedo to speak for itself for a moment. "I would appear that I have severely underestimated the tolerance level of the average Genetics researcher."

"Hank McCoy," teased Jean, "Is that humor I hear in that voice?"

The three were exiting the Radisson in downtown Los Angeles, where conference was being held. Hank had agreed to escort the two of them to the parking garage, while Scott retrieved their vehicle. 

"I've learned," said Hank, "That as outrageous as my appearance is, it is time to accept what I am. I just regret that it took me so long to come to that decision, and I sometimes wonder what work I might have accomplished had I not been on my quest after windmills."

"I wouldn't worry about such things, Henry," commented Xavier, "Part of life is learning to accept what we are, human and mutant alike. If I'd had your scientific knowledge when I was your age, I might well have done the same thing."

No one noticed a figure on the fire escape above them, peering down. Large and lithe, the figure stepped up to the railing of the landing on which he stood. "McCoy," was all he muttered as he prepared to launch himself down upon the unsuspecting trio.

************

As the staff of Angel Investigations compared notes, one thing became clear very quickly. No one had any idea what was going on. 

"Most of these missing demons have been here for years, according to the Host," Wesley was commenting. "It's unusual that someone that rooted would vanish without telling anybody."

Angel, the firm's original owner, voiced his agreement. "Particularly since they all seemed comfortable." He had doffed his customary black coat upon arrival, and stood in black jeans and a white shirt. Standing a full head taller than Wesley, with brown hair and eyes set on a rugged, intelligent face, he made a very imposing figure when he so desired. As well he should, since he was also a two hundred year old vampire. 

"So why are we worried about this, exactly?" asked Gunn, the last of the crew. He was a street kid as a youth, and his dark skinned face showed some of the worries of those days still, even when he smiled, which was fairly often. However, no one had yet asked him if his lack of hair was by choice or circumstance. He dressed, as always, in the clothes that one expected from "the 'Hood."

"It could be an indication of something to come," muttered Wesley, distracted, "Frequently, larger demons will need a sacrifice of lesser ones in order to bridge into this realm."

"So we're worried about someone really bad steppin' into the street?"

"Either that or someone's offering demons apartments in…" Cordelia started, "Oh,"

"Cordy?" asked Angel, concerned.

"Damn…" was all Cordelia Chase could manage to say before the vision struck. Then she screamed.

**_An alley. Dark. Flash of fangs. A well worn and frequently sewn trench coat. Blood. Hands with claws. A sign. A garage. More fangs. A cave man?_**

"…why did I have to say that?" Cordelia asked. She had started to fall backwards when the vision struck her, but Angel had quickly come around behind her, catching her as she fell. 

"What did you see?" he asked gently.

"Uhm, a Neanderthal, I think. Attacking a homeless guy? Something about a trench coat that had seen much better days. And a sign! It said 'Radisson Parking: Guests Only.'" She turned to Wesley, "It's happening now! We gotta go!"

"I'll drive," said Angel as all four headed towards the door, he handed Cordelia over to Wesley so he could help her out. "That's just about ten blocks from here."

************

Angel pulled the car into a space across the street from the Radisson, barely coming to an actual stop before he was leaping out of the black convertible.

"Gunn," he said, tossing his keys to the young man, "There's weapons in the trunk." And with that he ran across the street and down the alley towards the parking garage.

Gunn popped the GTX's trunk open, and grabbed a short two-handed axe. "You stay with Cordy?" he asked Wesley.

"We'll be along quickly," the Englishman answered, supporting the still groggy Cordelia on one arm, and grabbing a loaded crossbow with the other. Gunn took off following Angel.

"Wes, wait," muttered Cordelia, "Something's not right. Feels like that…" she hesitated, trying to remember, "Prio Motu thingie earlier this year." She was referring to a vision that the whole group had misinterpreted, almost resulting in the death of a pregnant woman and her child. Her very important child.

Wesley looked across the street, noticing the marquee on the front of the hotel. 

"United Medical Association Conference on…" something triggered in his memory. Wesley still tried to keep up on happenings in the scientific world, something about this conference, and a Neanderthal….

"Oh, good lord! I've got to get to Angel!"

"Go!" Cordelia commanded, "I'll catch up."

Wesley took her at her word and ran across the street, narrowly missing getting hit by several cars in his haste to catch up with his comrades.

Angel, meanwhile, had rounded the corner of the alley and was greeted with the sight of a large, very large, …well, cave man throwing another large man, this one in a ragged trench coat, into a pile of trash at the end of the alley. There were also two others, a man and a woman, lying on the ground behind the creature, as though they had been knocked down forcefully. Obviously, the demon had attacked two of the hotel goers, probably in human form since it wore a tuxedo, which was now pretty trashed, and some unfortunate homeless guy got in the way. 

"Okay, tall, dark and ugly." Angel said as he stepped forward, "Up to something a little tougher?" 

"My dear fellow," the beast in front of him replied, "While I'm certain that seeing just the last few moments of this conflict has dictated that I am the antagonist, I assure you, sir, it is quite the opposite."

"…big words for a cave man…" Angel muttered, stepping in towards it some more.

Gunn came around the alley and saw the same thing as Angel. Realizing that Angel seemed to be ready to take on the demon, he skirted the edges of the alley until he reached the two people behind the beast.

"It's okay," he told the woman, a very attractive redhead ("no time to notice that right now, fool!" his mind told him.) "We're here to help…"

The woman took in the scenario very quickly, and said, "Then tell that idiot to stop posturing to Hank and watch his…."

Unfortunately, the warning came to late. What Angel had assumed from it's appearance to be a homeless man came back up the alley at full speed, and Gunn could now see the fangs and claws attached to a wild, almost inhuman, looking form. 

"ANGEL!" he shouted, "Behind you!"

Angel started to turn as he heard a low growling coming from behind him, and then he yelled out in pain as he felt four clawed fingers digging deep into his back, and he felt himself being lifted up into the air.

"Thanks for distracting the doc fer me…" the man told Angel, "But now you're in my way." He tossed Angel effortlessly against the wall, where the vampire fell to the ground, unmoving. "Alright, McCoy, yer comin' with me…ARRGHH!"

This last was due to the sudden appearance of a crossbow bolt from his shoulder. He turned in the direction the bolt came from, where Wesley stood, knocking a second bolt into his weapon.

"Step away from Dr. McCoy, whatever you are," the Englishman stated with more certainty than he felt, "Unless you want another one of these."

"Lissen ta the mouse," came the reply, as the man simply pulled the bolt from his body. Wesley watched fascinated as the wound proceeded to heal itself. The man started to advance towards Wesley, when he felt a tingle in his mind. He spun towards Xavier and Jean. She had helped the Professor to a sitting position, and Xavier had recovered enough to attempt to stop the attack. 

"That's enough, Sabretooth," the Professor stated.

"Back off, Baldy!" Sabretooth replied, tapping his forehead "I got something that stops yer mind games cold." He started advancing towards the Professor, "I'll take ya all on!"

And then he was flying backwards, at the wrong end of a scarlet beam of pure force. Sabretooth went crashing through the wall at the far end of the alley as all turned to the source of the beam. Scott stood there, putting his glasses back on, the ruby-quartz lenses dissipating the deadly force that his eyes projected. 

Sabretooth recovered quickly, and re-evaluated his options. Deciding that he was outnumbered, he jumped to the fire escape of an adjacent building. 

"This ain't over," he announced as he scrambled up to the roof and out of sight. 

Seeing the threat was over, at least for the moment, Hank immediately ran over to examine Angel. He stopped cold as the vampire climbed back to his feet, in obvious pain, but far from the eviscerated mess McCoy was afraid he'd find.

"Remarkable," he commented, "Two such similar mutations in the same place."

"Mutation?" Angel asked shakily. The wounds were closing, but it would be a little bit before he'd completely recovered. Those claws went deep.

 "Well," replied Hank, "I fail to see any other possible reason for your continued good health after that attack." 

"Howabout he's already dead?" asked Cordelia, arriving on the scene.

Scott meanwhile had made his way over to Jean and the Professor, the later who was being helped into his wheelchair by a very embarrassed Gunn. 

"You okay, Jean?" he asked.

"I'm fine," the redhead replied, "He took us completely by surprise. These people arrived after he'd knocked the Professor and I away from Hank."

"Are you alright, uh, Professor…?" asked Gunn, looking from Xavier to Scott to Jean to Hank to the hole in the wall at the end of the alley, and wondering just what had happened here. Angel was making his way towards them, with the cave man, (Hank, his mind said, the redhead called him Hank.) assisting him. Wesley and Cordelia had joined them, Wesley explaining to McCoy how he'd read of his appearance here.

"Charles Xavier, Mr. Gunn," the Professor replied. At Gunn's shocked expression, he added, "Your thoughts were very loud a few minutes ago, I couldn't help but overhear."

"My…thoughts," Gunn stammered. 

"Yes, I think some explanations are in order, Mr. Gunn, I'd like you to meet Scott Summers and Dr. Jean Grey," Scott nodded sharply and Jean smiled at him. "The man your colleges…"

"The English one's Wesley, the gal's Cordelia, and the one nursing his left kidney, that's Angel." Gunn answered the unasked question.

"…is Dr. Henry McCoy." Xavier finished.

Angel had arrived during this last exchange, and his eyes flashed briefly to Scott as the later was introduced. 

_"Summers?" _he thought, _"Probably a coincidence."_

"I think we have a lot to talk about, Professor," he said aloud, "But I don't think this is the place to do it." 

"I agree," said Xavier, "Sabretooth isn't one to give up, and I don't particularly want to have to explain that hole to the local police."

"Our offices are near here," Wesley said, "We could go there…?"

"I'm not sure about this, Professor…" Scott started.

"Scott," the Professor replied, "I appreciate your concern, but trust me, we **are** safe with these people. Henry, I'd suggest that you come with us, I suspect that your room in this hotel is not safe for you right now."

"Absolutely, Professor," McCoy said. "Not to mention my overwhelming curiosity about our new comrades."

"Well, I'd suggest some take out," Cordelia said. "We still haven't had dinner."

"I could eat," commented Jean.

"I think Angel oughta pay," said Gunn. "I mean, he did start to take on the wrong guy." 

Angel fixed a stare that could melt steel on his associate, and then grinned. "Okay, you got it."  He reached into his jacket and pulled out his wallet. "Wesley," he said, "Why don't you and Cordy take my car and pick it up?" He handed some cash to Cordelia. "Gunn and I'll show our guests to the office?" He phrased it as a question, since Wesley was actually the head of Angel Investigations these days.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea." Wesley said.

************

Dinner had long since been served in Westchester, New York. At Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, the meal tonight had consisted of a lively Cajun feast, spicier than usual in both seasoning and atmosphere. Remy had taken advantage of the fact that the more…sensitive pallets were not here, and completely cut loose. The students loved it, Bobby Drake and John St. Alloysis kept trying to out macho each other on how hot they could take it. Everyone gave up quickly after Logan joined the game however. 

After the dishes had been cleared, the group retired into the rec room to relax for the evening. Jubilee, Rouge, Kitty, Bobby and John immediately grabbed the couch and turned on the latest episode of "Friends", Remy and Logan each grabbed a beer and started a poker game in the far corner, Ororo found a comfortable chair and a good book, and the other students broke into small groups around board games or puzzles, some occasionally joining in front of the television, and a brave few tried sitting in on a hand or two of poker. These last very quickly discovered that between Remy and Logan, they were completely outmatched, and folded out. After a while, Logan lit up a cigar, and Remy followed suit with a cigarette.

Ororo immediately smelled the smoke, and without even looking up said "Boys, no smoking in the house, remember?"

"But, chere, le Professuir is gone for a week, neh? Is this not the time to bend the rules a bit?" Remy replied, turning on his charm.

"Yeah, darlin'" added Logan, "And One-Eye aint here ta give us the 'Settin' a bad example' speech he's so proud of either."

"Yes, but I am still here, and there is still no smoking in the house. You two can take them out to the back porch, can you not?"

"Well, 'Ro," commented Logan, turning his eyes back to the hand that Remy had delt him, "Looks ta me like it's our two to your one."

"Democracy in action, Stormy," commented Remy, tossing a chip to the center of the table. 

Most of the students had started watching the exchange as soon as Logan's cigar was lit, the rest perked up their ears at this. 

"Do not call me that…ridiculous name," was all that Ororo replied, but her eyes had already shifted from their normal deep blue to a complete white, and had Remy or Logan actually seen this, they would have guessed what was to follow.

With a speed that could not be believed, two small rain clouds formed in the room. One over each of the two smoker's heads, and as soon as they had formed, they cut loose with a miniature down pour.

"What the hell…?" cursed Logan, jumping to his feet.

"Ici?" cried Remy, pushing his chair back so fast he almost fell out of it.

"I told you, Remy," commented Ororo, her eyes now back to their normal blue as she brushed a stray white lock out of her face. "Looks to me as though your democracy has had a small coup." She smiled brightly, "But, the porch is still unclaimed."

"Whattaya think, Gumbo?" asked Logan.

"Oui," replied Remy, "I t'ink that'd be best." He gathered up the cards and chips while Logan procured them two more beers.

"The name, it fits though, chere," commented Remy, laying his hand on Ororo's shoulder as he walked pass her.

Ororo reached up and squeezed his hand without thought or hesitation as she commented "Perhaps, but I still find it less than inspiring." She was, however, still smiling as she said it. These two had a past between them, over two years gone. However, no one else at the school knew exactly what it involved. All knew however, that they were deeply committed to each other, and each would do anything for the other without question.

Remy paused for a moment before removing his hand from Ororo's shoulder, looking intently at her as she read. Then he knelt down by the side of her chair, and so softly that only she could hear commented "J'tadore, ma soeur."

Ororo turned and looked into his eyes, the smile fading momentarily as she wondered what had brought this comment out. She had never doubted Remy's regard for her, or his feelings. Why had he suddenly felt the need to call her "Sister" again after so long?

"J'taime, mon frere," she replied, then smiled again. He returned the smile, then stood and wandered off to join Logan the porch. He found the rugged man already had set up a table, opened their beer, and lit a cigar.

"Somethin' up, Cajun?" he asked. 

"Why?" asked Remy, sorting this chips back out.

"Never heard you call 'Ro sister before. I know you two are tight, but that sort of comment usually means somethin' else."

"You speak French?" the Cajun asked.

"Canadian, remember?" Logan replied, "Gotta learn it to get by sometimes. And quit changin' the subject."

"Jus' a feelin'" Remy muttered, starting to shuffle, "Prob'ly nothin'. But feels like somethin' bad 'sbout to 'appen." He looked over at Logan.

"Well," the Canuk replied, "I'll keep an extra eye open." He took another drink, "Now deal."


	2. Explanations and Mysteries

 II  Explanations and Mysteries 

Some things are universal. One of those things is the simple fact that after a harrowing experience, Chinese food and light conversation are the only way to go. It would seem that everyone involved in these events was well aware of this fact, since the conversation in the Hyperion lobby did not touch on mutants, demons, missions, prophecy, religion or politics until after dinner. Instead, they gathered in small groups, talking about various miscellanies that interested them. Henry McCoy, Charles Xavier, Jean Grey, and Wesley Windham Price, for example, discussed the potential long-term positive effects the conference could have. Midway through the conversation, Cordelia joined them, and although she could not keep up with all of the medical jargon, the sociological aspects of the issue at hand fascinated her. Angel, Gunn, and Scott on the other hand, were perfectly content to take their little cardboard boxes, their wooden chopsticks, and in Angel's case, a coffee mug filled with type A positive, into the parking lot, and discuss at length the compression ratios, torque, and pure raw power involved in the engine of a 1967 Plymouth GTX. Then, of course, came the inevitable comparisons to the 1969 Pontiac GTO and the 1971 Ford Mustang. Finally, the last fortune cookie had been read, tea or coffee had been served, and everyone was actually comfortable for the first time since the events of the evening began to unfold.

It was Hank who began the more earnest talking.

"Now then, Angel. I can certainly understand your mistaking me for the antagonist in the scenario you came across, particularly since my assailant did look somewhat bedraggled at that exact moment. What I do not quite understand, however, is by what providence you came to be in that alleyway prepared for combat."

"That was my bad." Cordelia interjected, "When I got the vision, it wasn't too clear, and I think I kinda goofed up the translation." She stood and yelled out at the ceiling, "What?? A little clarification is too much to ask for?" Crossing her arms and looking very annoyed, she returned to her seat on the sofa.

"Visions?"  asked the Professor and Hank simultaneously.

Wesley answered, "Yes. Cordelia is our Seer. The Powers that Be send…" he paused a moment, deciding which word to use, "messages through her as to whom we are supposed to be helping."

"Messages, that's one way to say it…" mumbled Cordelia.

"So you four just spend your time helping people in need?" Jean asked. "Just to be helping?"

"Oh, no!" Cordy piped up, "We charge for it.." she broke off as she realized how that sounded. "Well, only what they can afford of course."

"It seems to actually add closure in most cases." Wesley commented quietly.

Jean kicked into psychiatrist mode, "It would." She remarked. She looked at the professor, who nodded his agreement. "It allows them to say 'This is over,' and start to move on in their lives."

"And, it allows us to pay the bills," added Gunn.

"Always a good thing," said Scott. "But you'll help anyone, even mutants?"

"Mutants, humans, even demons occasionally," Angel replied.

"DEMONS?" The question came from three voices at once. Only Professor Xavier seemed to take this statement in stride.

"Well of course!" said Cordelia. "I mean, after all, since Angel's a vampire…"

"With a soul," Wesley interjected.

"…With a soul," she added, "and he's trying to redeem…"

"Waitaminute!" said Scott, gesturing towards Angel "Are you telling me that he's a… a vampire?"

"I know this is difficult to believe," Wesley started.

"Difficult isn't the word I'd use," Scott muttered. 

"Not that difficult," stated Xavier. "With some of the things we've seen, vampires aren't that far-fetched."

"Professor," Scott started.

"Scott," Jean interrupted, "Think for a minute. We're mutants. Look at us, at the Brotherhood,"

"But really, Jean," replied Scott. "Vampires?"

Angel meanwhile, had slipped up behind the two. He cast a questioning look at Xavier, who simply nodded.

"Scott?" he said softly. 

"What?" demanded Scott, turning towards him.

"This." Angel replied, his face shifting as his demon side was brought forth.

Scott Summers had seen some amazing things in his years as Cyclops of the X-Men, but nothing save perhaps Mystique's transformations could stop him this cold. Angel's handsome features briefly turned to liquid, sliding into a new arrangement. His brow extended both up and out, bringing the gentle eyes to a more sinister slant. The eyes themselves went from a deep brown to a golden yellow, and seemed to glow with a deep inner fire. And the teeth…

"…Dear God…" whispered Scott. 

Angel's face returned to normal as he said "And I think Dr. Grey could verify my lack of pulse…" He held his arm out to Jean, who wrapped her hand around his wrist, second and third fingers expertly finding the vein. 

"Nothing. No pulse at all," she commented, fascinated, "And you're body temperature…"

"Too low for the living." Angel finished for her. He returned to the other side of the room. "I've been dead for over two-hundred years."

"And the redemption young Ms. Chase was mentioning?" asked Xavier.

"About a hundred years ago, a gypsy woman cast a curse on me, revenge for turning her daughter. She returned my soul to me." Angel stared off into the distance as he continued. "Suddenly, I was a human in a demon's body. I could remember everything I'd done, and I felt it in my conscience. A century's worth of guilt all at once." He turned and cast his gaze to the Professor, "I almost walked into the sunrise the next morning."

"…My pains, my pains, who can express? Alas, they are so strong! My dolours will not suffer strength, my life for to prolong.[1]" McCoy commented softly, almost to low for anyone to hear.

Suddenly, Angel smiled, "But enough about us," he said, "What about you."

"Us?" asked the Professor. "What about us?"

Angel grinned a bit wider, "Mutants, right? Wes told me how he recognized Dr. McCoy…"

"Oh, please. Call me Hank. I hear Dr. McCoy and I start looking around for DeForest Kelley, rest his soul."

"Hank, then. And we saw Scott do that thing with his eyes…"

"And I thought the glasses were a fashion statement," muttered Cordelia. 

"…SO…" Angel continued undaunted. "What about you Professor? Dr. Grey? Are you mutants as well?"

**_"Well, I couldn't very well run a school for mutants if I wasn't." _**

Angel, Cordy, Wesley and Gunn all blanched slightly as they all realized that Xavier had spoken directly into their minds. 

"Dr. Grey?" Angel turned to face Jean and found his coffee cup floating about two inches in front of his face. Startled, he stepped back slightly.

"It was on the other side of the room, thought you might want it before it got cold." Jean said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I noticed that you had that in your hand and sort of nibbled at the Chinese. If it's **not** coffee, we wouldn't want it clotting." Scott paled slightly at the joke.

Angel took the cup from the air. "Thank you," he said, a smile still touching his face as well. He returned to his seat next to Cordelia. "So, Hank graduated from Xavier's Academy, according to Wes, before he went to Washington U. I would guess that the Academy is the school you referred to?"

"Indeed," said Xavier aloud, "We teach young mutants how to control their gifts, how to cope with them. And we work to allow them a choice when they grow older."

"Choice?" asked Cordy.

"Yes, to either go into the world prepared and well educated. Or stay on, teach the next generation, and possibly become one of our…special teachers."

"Special, Professor?" 

"Well, Wesley, the student's like to refer to them as the X-Men. We act as a deterring force for those mutants who would use their talents against the world. And to protect those mutants who can't protect themselves."

Wesley snapped his fingers. "Ellis Island!" he exclaimed. "It was you that captured…what was his name, Longshear? Magneto, he called himself. He was trying to initiate some sort of energy wave over the conference." 

"Eric Lensherr," Xavier corrected. "And speaking of which, Henry's assailant was an associate of his. I need to see if I can find out what he's up to." He looked directly at Hank, "You are still in danger, and I don't like working blind." Returning his attention to Angel, he asked, "Is there a room here where I could meditate? In New York, I would simply go pay Eric a visit, however, I fear I will need to attempt telepathic contact with him. Such a distance without the aid of Cerebro will be difficult, and I would like to prepare for a while."

"Cerebro?"

"A machine that amplifies by abilities, allowing me to expand the range of my telepathy."

Angel was preparing to show the Professor to one of the off-lobby libraries when Wesley stood and said, "Actually, Professor, I might have something that could help with that. I'll be back in a moment." And he disappeared into another room. 

Scott meanwhile was asking Cordelia for a phone; "I have some family in LA that I haven't spoken to in a while. Thought I'd try to track them down while I was in town."

Cordy showed Scott to the main office. As she was grabbing the white pages from beneath the lobby counter, Wesley came back out of the room he had entered. He held a small wooden box with elaborate carvings on it.

"Cordelia, where is the first of the D'rahmon chronicles?"

"Try on my desk. I had it out yesterday looking up that weird symbol thingie…"

"Right," Wesley looked at her desk. "Any idea which pile?"

"Second from the right corner, facing the computer." Cordy replied, exasperated.

Finding the tome exactly where she indicated, Wesley thanked her and headed towards the library where Angel and Xavier were bound.

Once inside, he found Angel making sure the Professor had everything, and that the room was suitable for his needs. 

"It's fine, Angel." Xavier was responding.

"Professor," Wesley started, "I have something here that could be of some use in this situation." He opened the box and withdrew a pyramid shaped red crystal. 

"Haxon's Spyglass," muttered Angel, "Of course." Xavier looked at him, the question clear in his eyes.

"Haxon was a seer in the 1600's," Wesley answered. "He used this artifact to view events happening elsewhere. Chronicles say that he did this by entering the mind of someone at those events. Some of them were thousands of miles away at the time."

"Telepathy." Xavier commented.

"Other's since then have tried to use the stone, but no one seems to be able to make it work." Angel added. "We have the incantation used to activate it, but it never allows you to read someone's mind."

"I suspect that it only will work if the user is **already** a telepath, that it acts to strengthen the existing ability. Not create it." Wesley finished. "I'll do the incantation work for you, Professor, if you'd like to try it."

"With Magneto possibly involved," said Xavier dryly, "I don't think we have much choice. Thank you."

"Call if you need anything," Angel said as he closed the doors behind him.

************

"Alright, Charles, what do you want this time?" Xavier heard.

Opening his eyes, he saw the ceiling of the plastic prison that Eric Lensherr was incarcerated in. He could dimly hear Wesley's chanting in the background.

"Charles? Will you please at least do me the courtesy of answering?"

Xavier willed his spirit outside of Lensherr's body, creating an illusion that only the two of them could see. Unlike his physical form, however, this image had no need of a wheel chair. 

"Yes, Eric, but I thought this would be more comfortable for you," he "said."

"Thank you for the thought, old friend, but you're still in my head and I know it. Please, tell me why you're here."

"I was hoping you would tell me what you have Sabretooth doing in Los Angeles."

"Victor?" Lensherr snorted. "How would I know? I've been stuck in this acrylic cage you designed, and unlike you, I'm not a telepath."

"He works for you, doesn't he?" Xavier asked.

"Victor Creed works only for Victor Creed, Charles," Lensherr replied. "For a time, it was in his interests to work for me. Now, obviously, it is not."

Lensherr stretched, and rose from his bed. "And, since I am kept in complete isolation," he continued, "I cannot even tell you any rumors about his current employment." He turned and faced out of the cell, looking towards the barely visible walls in the distance. "But it has nothing to do with either me or my cause."

"You still hold to…"

"Of course I do!" Lensherr hissed, his face a mask composed of equal parts rage and tears, "The war is still coming, Charles. And I will not see another of my kind slaughtered." He returned to the bed and sat down, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm tired, Charles. It's late. I have told you what you wanted to know, so if you would be so kind…" He looked up at the telepathic projection, "I'd like to go to sleep."

"Very well, Eric. I thank you for the information."

"No harm in it," Lensherr sighed. "But Charles, do be careful. Victor's rough-shod exterior hides an intelligence that is both fierce and cunning."

"I find it strange that you would be concerned about me, Eric. But again, I thank you." 

The projection was fading from Eric Lensherr's mind as he mumbled, "Of course I'm concerned, old friend. It wouldn't do for anyone else to take your life." He closed his eyes and laid back into the pillow. 

"It wouldn't do at all…"

************

In an abandoned office building on the waterfront, Victor Creed sat in front of a speakerphone. 

"Where is Dr. McCoy?" came a voice from the speaker. Smooth, cultured, and completely assured of it's own superiority. 

"Xavier and two of his brood were there. And others…"

"Your point, Victor?"

"I was completely outnumbered, the mission was completely impossible at that point."

"Who were these…others?"

"I'm not sure." Creed scratched his sideburns, "One of them, tall, broad, a lot stronger than he oughta be. Someone called him 'Angel'."

"Angel." The voice was silent for a second. "I've heard of an Angel Investigations. Rumors are that he's a vampire. They claim to 'help the hopeless.'" 

Creed sat in silence for a moment, then asked "What do you want me to do?"

"Tell me, which of Xavier's people were there?"

"The boy scout and the redhead."

"Unfortunate, I was hoping that Mr. Logan would be in Los Angeles, as I know you were."

"Runt and me, we got unfinished business." Creed muttered.

"McCoy won't be at the hotel tonight, he'll go into hiding," the voice replied, "Use your sources to find this Angel Investigations. Start there. Find him." There was no need to add any threat to the end of that. Creed knew it was there.

"I will," he said. Turning off the phone, he spoke to the darkness. "Get everyone together, we've got a job ta do."

"Will do, boss."

************

Remy LeBeau could not sleep. This was hardly an uncommon experience. He'd been a night owl for so long, there were just times that sleep would not come easily. Sighing, he pulled on a pair of jeans and went to his favorite thinking place. Climbing out his window, he rapidly ascended to the roof, using skills he'd been honing since he was a child picking pockets in the streets of New Orleans. He knew this roof by heart, all it's peeks and crevices. He knew the stars he would see, and the winds he would feel. He knew exactly what to expect. That's why he was so surprised to find someone else up there.

"Couldn't sleep, chere?" he asked Rogue.

"Hey, swamp rat," she replied. "Happens sometimes."

"Know the feelin'" he commented, lighting a cigarette.

"Those things'l kill ya, y'know." Rogue said.

"Maybe,"

They sat in silence for a while, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Remy turned to Rogue after a while.

"You look beautiful in this light, chere." He said softly.

"Don't" was all Rogue replied.

"Don't what?"

"Flirt with me,"

"Not flirtin', just payin' a lady a compliment."

Rogue was silent for a moment, taking that in. "Thank you," she finally said.

"You don't like me, chere?"

"Ah like ya fine, Remy, but Ah don't like people getting' to close."

"I'll settle f'r as close as you'll let me."

"Why? Why want to get close to a woman ya cain't touch?"

"More t' life then touch, chere."

They sat silently again, watching the stars.

************

"…didn't realize it at first," Xavier was explaining to Wesley as they exited the library, "But I was here once before, in 1962. I had reservations, but when I arrived, there was some…essence that my telepathy picked up. The hotel was one of the most uncomfortable places I'd ever been, and I'd just arrived. I stayed elsewhere, of course."

"Well, Professor," Wesley replied, "there was a Thesulac demon in residence here at that time. They whisper to the mind, creating the fear and paranoia they need to feed." 

"Ah, well. That **would** explain why I didn't want to stay the night." Xavier chuckled.

"Indeed, in fact we just recently removed him from this plane of existence." Wesley paled slightly at the memory of the feelings the Thesulac had brought out in him.

As they approached the others, Jean was entertaining Angel, Cordelia, Hank and Gunn with a story about the Ellis Island incident.

"…so Scott says 'Prove it.' And Logan stares at him with this…look and says 'You're a dick!'" she started laughing, her voice joining the others who were already enjoying the story.

"What did Scott say?" asked Cordelia, catching her breath.

"Oh, oh," Jean started, "He stands ramrod straight, looks at Logan, and goes," she put on her best deadpan, "'Okay."

At this, no one involved could keep a straight face, and even the Professor grinned.

"Oh my stars and garters!" said Hank, starting to recover himself.  "I can just picture our esteemed leader exactly like that! Not letting anything rattle him." 

"Oh can you now?" asked Scott, entering from the other end of the room. "Telling tales on me again, Jean?" As he sat next to her, the smile on his face betrayed his true reaction to the story.

"So honey," she asked him, "Any luck with your family?"

"Friad not," Scott replied, "No listing for the home numbers, so I tried calling Uncle Hank's office. They told me he's off in Spain somewhere, and wouldn't take a message." He settled back a bit in the sofa, "I'll try Aunt Joyce's work tomorrow sometime."

Hearing the names of Scott's aunt and uncle, the crew of Angel Investigations suddenly stopped smiling.

"Scott," Angel started, "Your Aunt, Joyce Summers?"

"Yeah," Scott answered, "You know her?"

"Does she have any children?" Angel continued.

"They have a daugh….."

Suddenly, for just a slice of a fraction of a second, Charles Xavier felt…something, just barely. It brushed the outer edges of his mind with fingers of gossamer. Then it was gone again. Looking to Jean, it seemed that she hadn't noticed it. In fact, Xavier himself was beginning to doubt as to if he actually felt anything. A quick scan showed that all was as it should be. He returned his attention to the conversation.

"…Two daughters," Scott was saying. "Buffy and Dawn. God, I haven't seen them in years." A slight smile touched his lips at the memory. 

"Oh, god…" Cordelia whispered. 

Xavier and Jean both picked up on the change in emotions, and she reached out to take Scott's hand.

"Scott," Angel said softly, "…how long since you talked to either of them?" 

"Joyce was in New York about five years ago." Scott said, "She said that there were some problems, and didn't say it out right, but divorce was written between the lines. Is that it? They're divorced?" He looked at Angel, apprehensive.

"Yes, but…" Angel sighed, and clasped his hands together between his knees, "I'm sorry Scott, there's no easy way to say this. Your aunt died about a month ago. We all knew her. And the girls…" he trailed off, looking up at Scott. 

"What about the girls?!" Scott said, his voice rising in volume slightly as he started to stand.

"They're fine!" Cordelia jumped up and laid her hands on his shoulders. "He meant as in 'We know the girls…' They're both fine." 

Scott sat back into the couch, his face absolutely expressionless. "How well do you know them?" he asked.

"Buffy and I were classmates, sophomore on up," Cordelia started, "Angel…" she hesitated.

"Buffy and I were very close for a while." Angel finished, "And Wesley, he was her watcher for a brief time."

Gunn sat quietly, deciding that there was no need to actually announce that he didn't really know them.

"Watcher?" Scott said blankly.

"uhm…" Cordelia started. She looked at Angel and Wesley, both of whom returned her look with a nod. "There's a lot you don't know about Buffy, Scott."

"Tell me…everything."

************

By noon, Logan had gone out to pick up some needed items. Most of the students were outside, enjoying the day poolside. Rogue had decided to stay inside and read. Her mutant ability, absorbing others memories and powers with a touch, made her wary of any situation where she would be wearing a swimsuit.

"Are you alright, Rogue?" asked Ororo, on her way out to the pool. 

"Ahm fine 'Ro" came the soft southern voice. Rogue sat in one of the most padded chairs in the house, reading. Her fingers twirled one of the white locks that framed her young face. "Just don't feel like bein' outside today, that's all."

"Really?"

Rogue stretched her toes and sighed. "Ah just don't feel right goin' swimmin' yet. I used ta love it, ya know."

Ororo sat on the edge of the overstuffed chair, waiting for her to continue.

"I used ta swing out ovah the swimmin' hole we had in Caldicutt County, as high up as I could, lettin' go, and droppin' feelin' like ah fell forevah…" she drifted off, lost in the memory. "Now, Ah can't risk lettin' one of the othah kids touch me. Kinda takes some of the fun out, doncha think?"

"The other students are well aware of what would happen," Ororo said, "I think you can trust them to be careful."

"That's just it, though," replied the younger woman, "They shouldn't have ta… y'know?"

Silence hung between the two women for a few moments.

"Alright then," Ororo responded, "If you need anything, I think Remy's getting something out of the freezer for dinner. He'll be in the kitchen for a while, I'm sure."

Rogue smiled, she really did have a soft spot for the Cajun charmer, Ororo realized. She headed towards the kitchen to let Remy know she was going swimming with the students. As she approached the end of the hall, she smelled cigarette smoke.

"Remy, didn't we discuss your smoking last night?" she called out. When there was no answer, she grew a bit concerned. The two of them had gone back and forth about his smoking for a long time, and the expected wise crack hadn't come. She entered the kitchen.

"Remy?" she asked, the young man stood stock still in the middle of the kitchen, a look of concern on his face, and a half smoked cigarette dangling from his fingers, half raised to his lips.

"Shhhhhh…" he replied, "Someone in de house wit' us."

Ororo immediately set down her towel and brought up her guard, "The pool?" She had learned a while back to trust the Cajun on issues like this. It wasn't that he could hear or smell someone, like Logan. It was just some…sense that alerted him to changes in his surroundings.

"Non, they safe, only in de house." He stood still a moment longer, focusing. "Sapristi[2]!" he cursed, running back the way Ororo had come, "De library!"

"Rogue's in there!" Ororo cried out as she fell to following him. Right about then a crash came from the direction they were headed.  They both redoubled their speed. As they approached the library, they could see that the door had been smashed inward. Remy grabbed the only thing in his pockets, his key to the mansions main doors, and focused his mutant power on it. The key started growing bright red as the potential molecular energy in the key was transformed into active kinetic energy, and he was prepared to unleash that energy on whoever had broken the library door.

"Hey, Cajun!" came a shout from the other side of the hall. Remy turned just in time for a shaft of energy to hit him directly in the chest. Suddenly, the key discharged its pent up energy, the two forces combining to throw him backwards into the wall. He slid down to the floor, unconscious.

"REMY!" screamed Ororo, her eyes already shifting to pure white. She drew on her own mutant abilities, and the skies answered her calls by darkening. A large man stepped out of the hallway from the direction that the shaft had appeared, dressed in a black coverall and holding a harpoon which was starting to glow. He had vaguely Inuit features, and he stared ice at her.

"Next," he said, raising the harpoon to throw.

"I think not," she replied, pointing at him. Lightening came in through all the windows in the hallway, striking the man, and flinging him down to the far end of the hall, knocking him out in the process.

As Ororo ran over to check on Remy, a smaller man, oriental in appearance wearing casual sports clothes, stepped into the hall from the library. 

"That wasn't nice," he said, and he looked at Ororo. 

Suddenly, her own power was turned inside out, and Ororo for the first time in years felt the fury of her own lightening. She slumped down besides Remy. 

The last of the three men came out of the library, a massive hulking mountain of a man, dressed to match his Inuit comrade, an unconscious Rogue carefully draped over his large shoulder. The oriental spoke to him, pointing to the Inuit. 

"Get him too," was all he said as he walked away. The large man grunted, picked up his second burden, and followed the oriental out the front door.

************

Dark. Cold. The air in this room hadn't moved in almost a year. Then, with a loud hiss, a shaft of light came through a crack in one wall. As the crack widened, two figures holding a flashlight could be made out. The torches light circled the concrete bunker, not pausing over the advanced computer equipment, stopping only when it centered on a non-moving form on the floor. The circle expanded as the two men came towards the corpse, revealing the patchwork nature of the body. One arm was normal, but the other was half again as large, and covered in green scales. It also had the wrong number of fingers. On the chest, a large metal box sat directly over the heart, with a small slot in the center that was about the size of a computer disk. Finally, the dualistic nature of the face could be fully seen. It was as if someone had torn two pictures in half and glued them together. One side was handsome, rugged looking. The other, however, came straight out of Hell. The eyes were open, starring into nothingness.

"Dr. Walsh's masterpiece," came one voice, haggard, sounding like the wind in the desert. 

"And all of her notes?" came the other. Smooth and refined. Complete polar opposite to the first. 

"Let's find out…" came the first. The man who spoke was the same who held the flashlight, and he turned to the far wall, walking towards the power box there. He threw the switch and the fluorescent lights flickered on.

"Generators are still hooked up to this section," the man commented, smiling. Many men had paled before that smile, although no one had ever put a name to the tall man dressed in black. The face was well worn, and the hair gray. But the eyes could stare straight into your soul. He reached into the inside pocket on his trench coat, retrieving a battered pack of Morely cigarettes. Lighting one, he turned back to his companion.

"I suspect that the computer systems will still have all of the records from project 314," he commented. 

The other man stepped over the body on the floor, and walked to the awakening computers. Like his companion, he wore a black jacket and pant combination; however, he wore a white turtleneck instead of a shirt and tie. His hair was coal dark, and slicked back against his skull, and his eyes were the same deep dark as a black hole at the bottom of the ocean. A perfectly trimmed goatee, the same obsidian tone as his hair, framed his thin-lipped mouth, and served to accent the ghastly pale shade of his skin. As the screen flickered to life, he asked his companion, "And that…?"

"You mean Adam?" the older man replied. "As I understand it, his power supply was removed. Replace it, and he should wake up." He drew on his cigarette, pulling the smoke deep into his lungs. "I think he could probably answer a number of your questions regarding Dr. Walsh's work."

The computers had fully booted up, and the other man was accessing some information on the terminal. "According to this," he said, "this entire section of the project doesn't exist."

"And that's why it's still here," his companion replied, "The rest of the complex has been filled in with concrete. This," he waved his hand, holding the cigarette, around the room, "was never on the original design. The power supply, air filtration, everything, is entirely separate from the main installation. Apparently, the Pentagon didn't listen as closely to the Slayer as they should have." He walked over to join his companion at the terminal, "I trust this will fulfill my end of the bargain, Doctor?"

The other man smiled, an expression so cold the temperature dropped. "Of course, this sort of bio-combinative research is just what I need to augment my own DNA manipulation work." He returned his attention to the monitor. "The full results of my work here will be delivered at the arranged address. I'm sure your consortium will find it most beneficial."

"Wonderful," said the older man, lighting another Morley. "Then I will leave you to your work, Doctor." He turned and left through the same opening that they entered.

The man called "Doctor" turned to the patchwork corpse on the floor, "And you, my friend, let's see about getting you some energy…"

************

It was slightly after nine when Angel came down the stairs into the agencies main offices. Cordelia was working on the computer, while Hank was perusing the books on the shelves. Angel was only slightly nonplussed to see that Hank was perusing while hanging from one of the ornate railings that ran along the ceiling by his feet. Professor Xavier was on the phone, trying to contact the Academy. 

"Morning," he murmured on his way to the coffee pot. It smelled wonderful, which could only mean Cordelia had not made this batch. "Where is everyone?"

"Prof. X sent Scott and Jean to get Hank's stuff from the hotel, Wes and Gunn went to talk to the Host, see if maybe they could find out something. Wes thinks that maybe that mutant…" she grimaced, "Sabretooth, might be behind some of our missing demons."

"Could be…" Angel mused, "But why…"

Xavier hung up the phone, and came over to the others. "I've left a message at the school for Ororo to contact us here. I suspect that the students are out enjoying their impromptu vacation." 

Hank McCoy looked up from the volume he was reading, "I know we always did," he commented with a smile, "A chance to get away from the iron fist of Professor Charles Xavier."

Xavier smiled at the joke, "And here I thought I was a benevolent dictator…"

"How is Scott handling things?" Angel asked.

"He seems to be doing well," replied Xavier. "However, I know him. He is looking at the current crisis with Henry. Scott tends to keep his emotions to himself. As soon as we can, I am going to insist that he go visit Sunnydale to check on his cousins."

Angel nodded his head in agreement, remembering how difficult it was for him to return to LA after Joyce's death. He felt an understanding of what Scott must be thinking, having two families, both who needed him.

Suddenly, Xavier stiffened. "The windows!" he cried out, "Someone…"

That was as far as he got. The large windows on the east side of the hotel came exploding inwards, heralding the arrival of some unwelcome guests.

"Round two, folks," Sabretooth growled as he brushed bits of glass off his shoulder. There were four others with him, two woman and two men. The first woman was tall with short dark hair, and wore a simple outfit of jeans, boots and a black jacket. She was Portuguese in appearance, and wasted no time. Looking directly at Xavier and Angel, she slammed her fist into the floor, sending a shockwave through the concrete. Angel managed to maintain his balance, thanks mainly to his vampyric agility. Xavier was not so fortunate, and the force knocked over his wheelchair, sending him sprawling across the floor.

Henry McCoy wasted no time launching himself at Sabretooth, taking the two of them back towards the front doors. However, Creed allowed himself to be knocked down, using the momentum to flip Hank over his head and into the wall. McCoy was not so easily taken out of the game, however, and quickly regained his feet, bracing for Creed's oncoming attack. 

One of the other men was small, but well built. He resembled a baseball player in both stance and dress, a dark satin jacket, with a ball cap and sunglasses concealing most of his face. He faced Angel, and suddenly his arm was fully outstretched as Angel felt something tear through his chest, right next to his heart. The pain was incredible, and despite himself he fell to his knees.

Cordelia meanwhile was trying to get to the weapons locker when she was overcome with dizziness and nausea. As she stumbled, catching herself on a table, she spun around, seeing the second woman staring at her with intense concentration. Another wave of nausea hit, much stronger than the last, and Cordelia's world swam sideways. She collapsed to the floor. 

Xavier was trying to pull himself over to his wheelchair. Wesley had given him the crystal from last night, and he had left it in a compartment in his chair. He hoped that he could activate it, and that it's added power might override the protection that Sabretooth and, he assumed, his companions had from his telepathy. 

The last of Sabretooth's companions spotted Xavier's attempt. He was a large, bulky man dressed completely in military fatigues, with multiple pouches hanging from them. He reached into two pouches and pulled out small pieces of electronic equipment that he then attached to a rod pulled from a third pouch. 

"I don't think so," the man muttered, pointing the rod at Xavier.

Xavier grasped his head in pain as a sonic wave hit him. The intense sound quickly overloaded his mind and he passed out, mere inches from his goal.

Creed delivered a shattering roundhouse to Hank's jaw, and the brilliant mutant slammed headfirst into one of the lobby's marble columns. He slumped to the floor, not moving. Creed quickly found a pulse and let go a sigh of relief. His employer wanted McCoy alive. He stood up, hefting McCoy over his shoulder.

"Alright, let's get out of here," he growled at his companions, and they left through the lobby's front door.

  


* * *

[1]  O Death, O Death, Rock Me Asleep. Anonymous, 1776

[2] Hexes, accursed.


	3. Reunions and Partings

 III  Reunions and Partings 

Logan had just finished getting the dinner supplies for the next few nights, and was on his way to replenish the beer that he and Remy had killed the night before when his cell phone buzzed at him. Muttering that he never got two minutes alone anymore, he punched the talk button and held the phone to his ear.

"Yeah?" he said.

"Mr. Logan, it's Kitty!" came a very excited voice over the earpiece, "You gotta come back now! There's been a…accident!"

"Kitty, calm down!" he commanded, "What happened?"

"Remy and Ms. Munroe, they've been hurt! Bobby said not to call an ambulance, call you instead!"

"Good call, take 'em down to medical, and call that McTaggart woman." Logan replied.

"We already have," came Kitty's voice again, "She's on her way, and Bobby organized the boys to carry them down. But we don't know what's wrong with them, and Rogue's missing, and the library's a mess, what do we do now?" Her voice was rising again.

"Keep cool, Pryde, an' do what McTaggart tells you. I'll be there in ten minutes." Logan hit the end key, killing the connection as he was running towards the parking lot. He needed to know what was going on, but grilling Kitty wouldn't do any good. He had to get back to the mansion.

************

Dr. Moira McTaggart was an attractive woman in her late forties, with the red hair and fair skin that one associated with the Scottish. While her face was normally soft and kind, right now she had an emergency to deal with, and no time for any delays. She jumped off of the private helicopter she used to arrive from New York before the engines had even finished shutting down, and ran full speed towards the mansion. Inside the chopper, Sean Cassidy finished the shut down procedures, then leapt onto the basketball court himself, not even closing the door before he followed the woman he loved. 

They were both old friends of Charles Xavier, and in fact had met because of him. Only Sean was a mutant however. Although he'd never been one of the Professor's students, he'd worked with the man several times. He ran a hand through his sandy blond hair as he entered the building, thinking how fortunate it had been that he and Moira were in the states, and in New York when the call came. They'd been planning to attend the same conference as the Professor, but a flight delay out of Scotland had kept them a day behind. They had overnighted in the big apple before moving on, and enjoyed a night on the town.

"How're they then?" He asked as he entered the MedLab, his Irish brogue coming out in full.

"Well, I dinna think there's permanent damage," Moira replied, moving from Ororo to Remy. Apparently some of the children had already been trained in how to set up the lab. Everything was ready for her to begin as soon as she arrived. "I'll nae know f'sure until I ken wha' did this." She finished.

Sean looked over at Bobby Drake, standing nervously off to the side. "Tell me everything ye know, lad." He said gently.

************

Wesley and Gunn had just parked the GTX when they saw the doors to the Hyperion standing open. With just a glance at each other, they ran to the doors, placing themselves against the wall in case someone was inside who shouldn't be. Wesley peered around the corner of the doorframe and saw the damage was already done. "Looks like we're too late…" he mumbled to Gunn as he walked in. 

"Check on Cordelia," he told the youth, as he ran to Angel, who was trying to pull himself up using the banister of the staircase. He saw the hole in Angel's chest, and realized how much pain the vampire must be in.

"What happened?" 

"Whatever took those other demons," Angel gasped out, pointing to one of the columns. Right about chest level, a second bone Shuriken was imbedded into the stone. "Lucky I'm already dead."

Cordelia was starting to come around, and Gunn helped her sit up, "Oh, that was worse than a vision…" she moaned. "Almost." 

"Go check…Professor," Angel hissed out, "I'll be okay…few minutes." Wesley helped him into a sitting position and ran over to Xavier. He rolled the Professor onto his back, and checked for vital signs. Pulse and respiration were good, but he wasn't sure if he should try to wake Xavier up. The Professor solved his dilemma for him, groaning and starting to regain consciousness. 

"Professor," he asked softly, "Are you alright?"

"They've taken Henry," Xavier replied, "Sabretooth and four other mutants." He pulled himself into a sitting position. "They took us completely by surprise."

"Well, according to our sources, that's the modus operandi of our demon-nappers."

"I suspect that they are one and the same," Xavier said. "But I honestly have no idea why."

Scott and Jean came running in at that point, both ready for action. Jean immediately switched into medical mode when she realized that there was no threat. Xavier waved her off and requested she make sure Cordelia was alright.

"Professor, I'm sorry…" Scott started, "We should…"

"Scott, stop right there," the Professor said, "It would have made no difference. By the time we realized they were attacking, the fight was over." Silently, he marveled at how smoothly the operation had been carried out. "They obviously waited until there were as few of us as possible, then came in fast and hard. I only recognized Sabretooth, but there were four other mutants with him."

"I'll call Logan and have him start checking the database," Scott said. "If we can find out who they are, perhaps we can figure out what they want." He was walking towards the phone when it rang. As he looked over at the AI crew, he saw them still getting to their feet and decided to go ahead and answer it.

"Angel Investigations," he said, "we…" he tried to remember what Cordelia had said, "help the hopeless."

"You takin' a second job, Slim?" came Logan's voice.

"Logan?"

"Yup. Chuck left a message with this number. We got a problem here." Scott could hear the stress in Logan's voice.

"Hang on, you're not alone, let me get the Professor." He turned to Xavier and Jean. "It's Logan. He says there's a problem."

As the two came over to the phone, Scott switched it over to speaker mode. 

"What has happened Logan?" asked the Professor.

"Seems we had ourselves a B&E with a little kidnappin' on the side, Chuck. Buncha unknown mutants came in, trashed 'Ro and the Cajun, took off with Rogue." Now Scott could understand the stress he heard, Logan looked at Rogue like a kid sister.

"Interesting," said Xavier, "The same thing happened here with Henry."

"You think they're connected Professor?" asked Scott.

"I don't believe in coincidence, Scott," Xavier replied, "And these two incidents seem to have happened almost simultaneously."

"I'm with you, Chuck," came Logan's voice over the speaker. "So what do we do about it?"

Xavier waited a moment before replying, weighing his options. "Logan, how are Remy and Ororo?"

"Cajun's right here, 'Ro's still a bit shaky, but pretty much all right," came the reply, "Moira says she took quite a jolt." Something was being said in the room to Logan, something very fast, and very Scottish. "Oh, and uh…yer damn lucky me and Sean were still in New York, if yer gonna be havin' this kind of thing, mister. That was a direct quote."

Xavier smiled in spite of the situation; Moira McTaggart was never one to keep her mind to herself. "Logan, ask Moira if she and Sean would mind watching the students for a little while."

Logan relayed the message, and more fast talk could be heard. This time, Xavier's ears actually started burning. "I'll take that as a yes?" he asked.

"Hang on, she aint finished," the cursing finally stopped, and Logan said, "That it? Good. Yeah Chuck, they'll stay. But you seriously owe her one."

"Agreed," said Xavier, "I'd like for you three to bring the Blackbird out and meet us in LA. You should be here by this evening." Xavier paused for a moment, "And bring Scott and Jean's uniforms." Xavier turned back to their hosts. "Angel, I hate to impose…"

"We help the hopeless, Professor," said Cordelia.

"Besides," added Gunn, "Wesley actually runs the agency."

"Yes, Mr. Gunn, however, I need to know if I can park an airplane in the back parking lot. I believe the hotel is actually Angels?"

"Yes, Professor," answered Angel, "It is. Use the lot, and I'll make sure there are enough rooms for you and your people." He turned to Wesley, "Is it safe to think we're working on the same case?"

"Indubitably," the Englishman answered, "I also don't believe in coincidence." He turned to the Professor, "I think we'll get much further together than separately."

"Logan, we'll place a beacon where you're to land the plane."

"Gotcha," came the reply, "We're on the way." The line went dead.

Xavier turned his chair to face Scott. 

"I have an errand for you," he said.

"Errand, Professor?" asked Scott.

"Scott, you need to take a day and go see your cousins. We'll start working on finding out what we can, and we'll make sure you're here before we move. If you don't at least take this small opportunity, your mind won't be fully where it needs to be." Xavier reached over, clasping Scott's arm. "It's alright, Scott. I want you to go see Buffy and Dawn."

"I don't know…"

"Scott," said Jean, "You need to do this. Go now." She took his face in her hands and gently kissed him. "They're the last of your family, except for Alex, and you don't know where he is. Go."

Scott smiled down at her, "I love you, you know that?"

"I know," she smiled back.

Scott went to the room they had used to get an overnight bag. Cordelia looked over at Wesley, "In love much?" she asked, grinning.

Xavier turned his attention to Cordelia, "Now then, Cordelia, perhaps we might do better looking for that Shuriken in relation to terrorists?"

"Well," she responded, "I'll give it a shot, but I'm not the best detective in the world if it doesn't relate to things that go 'Rharr' in the night."

"However," Wesley thought out loud. "Professor, would you mind if I asked Scott to run an errand for us while he's in Sunnydale?"

"I see no reason to," the Professor answered him, "What did you have in mind?"

"Since we now have two of these Shuriken to study, I thought I might send one of them to Willow Rosenberg. She's one of Buffy's friends, and quite the expert when it comes to getting information from…ahm, restricted sources."

"Such as top secret government databases relating to mutant terrorists?" suggested Cordelia.

"Quite," Wesley responded. "I'll go retrieve the first one we found," he glanced at the second Shuriken embedded in the column, "We'll work on getting that one out after Angel recovers." He headed towards the back offices.

Scott had returned and was ready to leave, stopping to kiss Jean again as they passed, he headed towards the Professor, who was now discussing search strategies with Cordelia. 

"Professor," he said, "I'll be back tomorrow afternoon." 

"Of course, Scott," Xavier replied. He gestured towards Wesley, who was now returning to the main lobby with a small box in his hands. "Would you be so kind as to deliver this to one of Buffy's comrades?"

Scott took the box from Wesley, who elaborated, "Willow Rosenberg. Ask her to see if she can find anything out in relation to mutant terrorists."

"She's a hacker?" Scott asked.

"A good one," Wesley confirmed. "Once we get the other Shuriken removed from that column…"

"Oh, hang on," Scott said, removing his glasses. He reached into his bag with his eyes closed and withdrew a small visor. Placing it over his eyes, he walked over to the column and examined the Shuriken embedded in it.

"Piece of cake," he muttered, rotating a small dial on the side of the visor. 

Suddenly, a bright red beam shot from his eyes to the column. Barely the width of a toothpick, it lasted just a second before he twisted the dial the other direction. Reaching out with his other hand, he caught the now freed Shuriken as it fell from the column.

"Remarkable," said Wesley as Scott handed him the Shuriken. 

************

Inside the laboratory, things had changed in the last several hours. The damaged systems were repaired, the entire area had been cleaned, and quite a few Plexiglas cages were now set up around the walls. Each of them held a different sort of demon, one was empty, and one other held a still unconscious Henry McCoy. On one wall, the remains of the creature called "Adam" had been chained, arms outstretched, torso and legs strapped securely. The man who had been called Doctor sat at one of the arrays of computer screens. Behind him stood Victor Creed, with the others who had staged the raid on Angel Investigations milling at various points of the lab. 

"I'm fascinated by the fact that Adam placed surveillance cameras all over downtown Sunnydale," the Doctor said. "Seems he enjoyed studying his prey, down to the last possible…" he broke off, staring at one screen where a man was stepping out of an obvious rental car. He wasn't overly tall, but something in the way he walked suggested that he was quite capable of taking care of himself. As he closed the car door, he pulled his ponytail back away from his shoulders, and adjusted his sunglasses. The monitor was in black in white, but he appeared to be blond. 

"You annoying little insect," the Doctor muttered. He pointed to the screen, "Victor," he commanded, "It's that Private Investigator from St. Louis. Make sure he doesn't survive the night. I've no time for minor distractions right now."

Creed watched the man enter a store called "The Magic Box."

"You got it, boss"

************

Anya Christina Emanuella Jenkins (good American citizen and definitely **not** a former vengance demon) turned from the shelves she was stocking as the door to the shop opened, indicating a potential customer. Or possibly one of the gang, she mused, brushing a stray lock of strawberry blonde hair from her face. She really hoped it was a customer, since they gave her money in exchange for goods, and therefore justified her continued employment at The Magic Box. When she noticed that it was indeed not one of the Scoobies, she put on her brightest smile, and approached the potential purchaser of magical supplies.

"Hello!" she said as the door closed, "May I help you find the item you're going to purchase?"

The customer pulled his sunglasses down onto his nose, and looked at her with blue eyes. He didn't look like the usual customer who bought things here, Anya thought, what with the tailored pants and sports jacket. She caught a glimpse of a pendant when his shirt collar opened up as he dropped his arm back down, and recognized it as Mjolliner, the hammer of Thor.

"Oh, your Asaturar!" she exclaimed. "We don't have much, but I think there's a copy of Grimm's third volume in the loft." She gestured to the packed bookshelves of the stores second level, "I know you're kind is big into the scholarly thing. I find it helpful to research non-mainstream religions," she added conspiratorially, "It helps me to sell things."

The stranger's grin was threatening to split his face in two, and he held up his hands to silence Anya.

"Actually, I was just looking for Rupes. He around?" he asked.

"Rupes? Oh, you mean Mr. Giles!" she replied, "I think he's in…" she hesitated just a second, realizing that saying "In a training session with Buffy," would probably not endear her to her employer, so instead she turned to the back and said "…his office in the back. I'll go get him for you," as she turned back to ask his name, she noticed that he had started walking directly towards the door to the back, and in fact was almost there.

"Hey!" she shouted, "You can't…" 

She was too late, the stranger stood there, door open, his hand on the knob, seeing the man he was looking for wearing protective gear while a lithe blonde girl apparently tried very hard not to beat the crap out of him.

"Bad time, Rupes?" he asked, a smile twitching one side of his mouth.

Rupert Giles was not one to get caught off guard very often, but this was one of those days. As the blonde fell back from an advance position, he looked up at the man who was addressing him.

"Nick?" he muttered, adjusting his wire-rim glasses and taking a second look. He then began walking towards the man, removing the padding from his right arm and extending his hand, "Nicholas Graydon, I'll be damned!"

"How the hell are you, Rupert?" Graydon replied, taking the ex-librarian's hand in his own and shaking. "I like the new look, get tired of tweed?"

"Well," the Englishman sighed, "Thing's do change, you know." 

"Mr. Giles," Anya interrupted, "I tried to stop him, but…"

"It's alright Anya," Giles told her, "I don't think much of anything would stop this man once his mind is made up."

"Friend of yours, Giles?" the blonde he'd been training with asked as she came over. Graydon noticed the slight darkness under the eyes, and a few very obvious signs of recent stress. Otherwise, she was rather pretty, with blue eyes and fair skin that matched her hair, lighter than his own locks. He could guess what part of the stress was caused by.

"Ah, yes," Giles harrumphed. "Nicholas Graydon, I'd like to introduce you to Buffy Summers," he gestured to the blonde at his side, and Graydon reached out his hand again.

"The Slayer," he stated, "An honor, m'lady"

"You…know me?" Buffy asked.

"Educated guess. I know Rupes here is with the Watchers, and that he came to Sunnydale for an assignment. Also, I noticed you trying not to hurt him a few moments ago."

Giles reddened slightly, "Well, she is quite talented," he commented.

"Trust me, Buffy," Graydon said, "Rupert's pretty hard headed himself. You shouldn't worry about him so much." 

"Uhm, Anya?" Giles asked, "Would you mind keeping up the front? I suspect that Nicholas is here for some information that would be best kept to ourselves."

"Okay," Anya replied, "I'll go watch the door and count the money." She smiled at that last, and bounced away.

"Nice kid," Graydon commented, "How long she been human?" 

Giles and Buffy both stared at him, her jaw slightly agape.

"You see a few ex-demons, you know how to spot the signs." Graydon commented, "You got anything to drink around here Rupe?"

Giles recovered his composure, "Of course," he said. "Scotch alright?"

"Spectacular. I really need a drink." Graydon held the door for the other two as they exited into the front of the store.

"So, Nick," Buffy asked as Giles gestured towards the round table in the center of the lower section of the store, "How do you know Giles?"

"We met about seven years ago," Giles answered for the other, retrieving the scotch from it's hiding place. "I was in the States doing some research for the council before I was assigned to you."

"I was working for the FBI at the time," Graydon added, "Weird case in Cape Cod. Giles and I ended up in the middle of some cult trying to resurrect an ancient sea demon."

"What happened?" Anya asked, as she sat down.

"We were too late," Giles said, pouring drinks for himself and Graydon. "Kraktoz was awakened, and I knew of no spell to send him back." He took a drink of the single malt. "Nick here came up with a workable solution."

"Which was…?" Buffy prompted.

"Whale harpoon," Graydon said, "with a few sticks of dynamite duct tapped to it. Museum was pissed though.."

"We kept in touch by mail after that. We met again in Saint Louis a little over a year later," Giles added, "I was on my way here, and we literally ran into each other at Lambert International."

"I'd quit the Bureau by then, fell in with some…unusual private investigators in Saint Louis, taking cases no one else could solve. Almost all of them have a supernatural connection of some form. Ran into Rupes at just the right time. Gave me a chance to pick his brain on English folklore for a case I was on."

"How'd that turn out anyway?" Rupert asked. "I gathered you solved it, but you've never mentioned it in any of your letters."

"You were right, but I got there too late." Graydon answered. He took a drink, and pulled out a cigarette.

"Hey, you can't …" Buffy started, but was quieted by Giles hand. The Englishman silently got up and retrieved an empty can to be used as an ashtray. 

"What happened?" he prompted.

"Alexis has been blind ever since." Graydon said quietly. "Somehow, I missed the trap. Bastard almost killed her." He finished his scotch, and Giles poured him another.

"You know, I've talked to her on the phone a few times," Giles said, "She's a good contact for information in the Midwest area, and she never mentioned that."

"She wouldn't, she's cool with it." Graydon answered, "I'm the one that's pissed. Although, if you don't know she's blind, you can't tell. It's kind of weird."

"Weird is a way of life for some folks," Buffy said.

"True," Graydon replied. Then he smiled. "But, I'm in town on business. I was hoping you could help me out."

"If I can, I will." Giles answered.

"I'm looking for a man. Tall, black hair and eyes. He keeps the hair slicked back against his head. Usually dressed pretty well. Most likely, he'd have purchased an old laboratory if there is one available." Graydon said. He pulled a photograph out of his inside jacket pocket, and set it on the table. "Black and white surveillance photo," he said, "Bit grainy, but it's the only one in existence as far as I know. The company that hired me for this job originally took it. His name is Dr. Michael Milbury. He worked for them on some bio-tech research, and took off with some…important data."

"Well he might not have to purchase a lab around here," Giles started, "There's two or three empty corporate centers that have…"

"Giles," Buffy interrupted, "I'm sure that Nick thinks this is important, but we have something a bit larger to worry about than stolen bio-tech."

"Buffy, I haven't forgotten about what is happening, but I'm certain…"

"No buts, Giles," Buffy said emphatically, "We're talking lives here, remember."

"So am I." Gradon added quietly. "More than you realize."

"What are you talking about?" Buffy asked.

"Originally, I was told that Milbury had stolen data relating to bio-engineering DNA in the seed stage. Later, the CEO told me that while he'd been hired to work on that project, he'd actually developed a technique for altering the DNA of living structures. When it was found out, he was fired, and the data was supposed to be destroyed. Milbury had backed it up off-site, however. They tracked the link, but he was long gone." Graydon paused a moment and took another drink. "Thing is, this technology could not only alter plant life, but animal DNA structures as well."

"Good Lord," breathed Giles. "You mean he could completely change the genetic structure of any living creature?"

"Exactly," replied Graydon, "That kind of knowledge…we're not ready for it. I have to stop Milbury before he finishes this work. He could give 'Playing God' a whole new meaning. He could literally build soldiers to order. Or a weapon that would turn your enemies into piles of goo."

"I stand corrected." Buffy said to Giles. "This is important." She turned to Graydon. "I can show you the buildings Giles was talking about?"

"Sound's good to me." Graydon answered. "And, thank you."

"No Prob. Hey, Anya," she asked the ex-demoness, "You mind calling Willow and asking if she could keep an eye on Dawn for a bit longer?"

"Why don't I ask if they can have dinner with us?" Anya said, "Xander and I can take care of Dawn if you're not back by five."

Buffy stopped for a minute and realized just how far the young woman now named Anya Jenkins had come into their lives in the past year. And she also realized how much she had come to care for the ex-demoness.

"That'd be great," she replied. "C'mon, Nick, scenic Sunnydale awaits."

************

It was around two when Scott Summers pulled up to 1630 Revello Drive, the address that Cordelia had given him. A modest two story, with a small yard and a couple of large oaks in the front. He wasn't really sure what he was going to say, what could he say? Hi, remember me? 

After a few minutes he finally gave up on the urge to simply turn around and drive back to LA, and stepped out of the car. He walked slowly up to the front door, still trying to find the right words. It was something of a relief when no one answered after the third ring. 

Scott returned to the car and started the engine. During the long discussion the previous night, the LA crew had made it very clear that Buffy Summers had a very important role in this town, so not finding her at home wasn't that surprising. He chuckled to himself thinking how quickly he had come to accept the existence of something like the Hellmouth. Of course, once you discovered you really were talking with a vampire, a lot of other things suddenly became much more believable. He dug into the glove box for the notes that Cordelia had written out. Ah, there. The Magic Box. And brief directions. He set the note down in the passenger seat and put the car into Drive.

As he turned the corner headed west, he let his mind wander over his reason for coming here. It was true that he'd stayed in touch with the LA Summers until about five years ago, right after Joyce's visit. He always enjoyed the letters from Joyce, and it now occurred to him that it was always she who wrote. Never Hank Summers, not once. He remembered the visits that his parents would take he and his younger brother Alex on. They always had a great time, particularly when the Summers Brothers and the Summers Sisters would get Aunt Joyce to take them to the beach. Looking back on it however, with and adults eyes, he could see that Uncle Hank wasn't all that nice a guy, even then. He always seemed cold towards his family, and he could remember overhearing his mother and father discussing things on the way back home. Alex was always asleep after about an hour on the road, but Scott simply closed his eyes and rested, so he always heard the conversations that occurred in the front seat. But everyone loved Joyce. She was one of those people that would just give everything she had for someone she cared about. Sitting up in the kitchen late at night after a nightmare, hot chocolate and a loving ear. Scott felt tears forming in his eyes as the memories came to him, and he truly regretted not doing more to keep in touch. Somehow, once the X-Men had been fully trained, they always seemed to be in the middle of one disaster or another.

His mind drifted on to Alex for a bit, and he wondered where he was. After the plane crash that killed their parents, Scott and Alex both were put into an orphanage. They were just far enough apart in years that Alex was adopted quickly, and Scott wasn't. They never saw each other again. Scott had tried to find his brother again, only to be stonewalled by red tape, sealed records, and the simple fact that no one wanted to help.

He put these thoughts away as he saw his destination. Parking just down the street, he hoped that someone was at the shop, because otherwise he had nowhere else to look. The "Open" sign could be seen clearly, removing his last refuge. He shrugged, and started to walk towards the shop, when he heard gunshots. A few seconds later, a very familiar sounding roar came from the park at the other end of the street.

"Sabretooth?" he said, bewildered. Didn't they just fight him in LA? He quickly grabbed his collapsible visor from his bag, exchanging it for his regular glasses, and started running towards the sound.

************

Buffy Summers and Nicholas Graydon had finished their exploration of abandoned lab sites. There were only three that were still unoccupied, the others had already been bought, refurbished, and were open for business again. The three remaining were all in the same shape, a bit dusty, and very obviously not the hiding spot of one Doctor Michael Milbury. The two investigators made their way through Weatherly Park heading back towards the Magic Box.

"Okay, so maybe it won't be so easy," Buffy was saying, "But there are probably some other spots we could check out."

"I'm not even sure that he's here," Graydon replied, "I don't know that we'll get any further today."

"Well at least I had a quiet walk through Sunnydale as opposed to the usual slayage filled fun-fest," Buffy said with a smile, "And for that, I thank you."

"Anytime," Graydon said back, "After flying into LA and driving down here, I definitely needed a walk. I take it your patrols tend to keep you occupied?"

"Most definitely," Buffy sighed, "Although, lately, seems to be a bit more downtime, almost like something decided that loosing my mom was enough on me for a bit."

"You're mom…"

"She died a month ago."

"I'm sorry," Graydon replied softly, "I know the feeling."

"I kinda thought so. Seems easy to talk to you."

"Kindred spirits kind of thing, I'm sure. How're you holding up, with your mom passing, I mean."

"Good days, bad days," Buffy ran a hand up and rubbed the back of her neck. "I haven't really had time to think much about it, with Glory and…" she put her hand up to her mouth, realizing that she hadn't meant to bring that subject up to a stranger.

"Glorificus?" Graydon asked, "She's here?"

"You know about her?"

"A little," he responded, "My employer keeps track of these kind of things. I take it the key is somewhere in Sunnydale then?"

"You could say that," Buffy replied openly.

"No wonder you looked wiped out earlier." 

Graydon stopped suddenly, tensing. 

"You have a sense about when something demonic is about, yes?" he asked.

"Usually," she replied quietly, "I'm not getting anything."

"That's because it's not demonic, blondie," came a voice from behind them. 

Both of them spun around, Buffy reaching instinctively for her favorite stake, Mr. Pointy. Graydon on the other hand, was holding a Smith and Wesson nine-millimeter pistol in each hand by the time he'd turned around fully, and was pointing them both towards the voice.

"Boo," said Victor Creed, with a smile that had been known to cause men to faint.

Buffy wasted no time in taking the offensive, and launched herself into a flying kick that had knocked many a vampire flat on their undead asses. 

Creed however, batted her aside like she was moving in slow motion. Buffy flew head over heels to the side, coming to a stop when her back impacted a tree. It was only her enhanced endurance and strength that saved her from a broken back.

Graydon opened fire the instant Buffy was no longer directly between him and Creed. Six shots from each weapon, all fired within two seconds, and placed in a small circle into the chest. Nine-millimeter rounds have much less kick than some of the higher gauge pistols, but the impact of twelve consecutive rounds within one breath was more than sufficient to drop their assailant. Creed flew backwards and lay unmoving on his back.

Graydon ran over to Buffy and helped her up to her feet. 

"Well," she said, "That's one way to deal with a threat."

"Works for…" he stopped as a load roar came from the direction that the attacker had fallen. They both looked over in time to see Creed standing up, the twelve holes in his chest were closing up, and there was an easily identified look on his face.

Very. Pissed. Off.

"Aw, crap," muttered Buffy and Graydon simultaneously.

"Now what?" asked Graydon.

"Looks like we're in for a fight," answered Buffy.

Creed advanced towards the duo, then stopped, looking directly over their heads at something behind them.

"I'm not falling for…" Buffy started. But then she and Graydon both turned to look when Creed leapt up and to the side, avoiding a scarlet beam of pure force that tore chunks of ground out in its wake.

Scott Summers took his hand from his visor as Creed decided he was outnumbered once more, and disappeared into the tree line.

"Are you two alright?" he asked, all business.

"We're fine, thank you," replied Graydon.

"Yeah, except for wondering just what happened here," added Buffy.

"It's…kind of hard to explain," said Scott, caught for the first time having to explain his mutation to some one. He'd done things like this before, but never just out of the blue. He usually was long gone before questions started.

"Educated guess? I'd say you're a mutant, and so was he," Graydon said calmly, holstering his weapons under his jacket.

"Okay, so maybe it's not so hard to explain," Scott said. 

"Mutants," Buffy commented, "That's a first…" She turned to Graydon, "We'd better get back to The Magic Box. Giles'll want to know about this."

Scott stared for a moment, reconstructing a face he hadn't seen since he was a child into the young woman standing before him.

"Buffy..?" he asked, hesitating.

"Do I know you?" she asked in turn.

Scott brushed a stray lock of hair off his forehead and smiled, and something about the gesture caught Buffy's attention.

"It has been quite a while…" he started.

Suddenly, she knew that smile, and the stray lock of hair that always had to be brushed aside.

"Scotty?" she asked, her eyes misting up.

"It's me," he affirmed.

"Scotty!" Buffy cried, throwing herself around him in a fierce bear hug, "Scotty, where have you been? Mom's…" her voice caught.

"I know, I just found out last night," he whispered, holding her tight, "I'm so sorry, Buffy."

"Oh, God, Scotty…" she sobbed.

They stood like that for quite a while, and Graydon quietly stepped around them and found a bench a bit down the path. He sat and smoked quietly, not listening to the soft sobbing coming from the young woman, or the gentle reassurances from the young man.

Finally, Buffy regained her composure. She gently backed out of the hug and promptly punched Scott in the arm.

"OW!" he cried out, "What was that for?"

"Where were you? We haven't heard from you since we moved from LA."

"Well," Scott replied, "I wrote a couple of times, but I didn't have this address. I guess the letters never got forwarded." He looked down at his cousin, "I suppose that after the divorce, Aunt Joyce just got too busy."

"Y'know," Buffy said, "She kept telling me she intended to drop you a quick note and let you know where we were, and what happened. But she always had something going on with her shop, and then…she got sick."

"If I'd known, I would have been here, Buffy, you know that, right?"

"Of course I do," she smiled up at him. "Always my gallant knight, that's my Scotty."

She was referring to an incident at the beach when she was about ten, and he a little past twelve. One of the other boys had decided to start harassing Buffy and Dawn, and Scott had put him in his place and sent him scurrying off with a bloody nose. Scott's parents read him the riot act that night, and sent him off to bed early as punishment for fighting, but Joyce Summers had brought him up brownies later on, and thanked him for watching out for Buffy and Dawn. At twelve years old, Scott Summers looked into his Aunt Joyce's eyes and told her that he would always take care of his cousins.

"Buffy, could you please just call me Scott?" he asked, sheepishly.

Buffy Summers, for the first time in quite a while, just started laughing. Laughed so hard, in fact, that she had to sit down. And it really felt pretty good.

************

Adam had been aware of time. Although his power supply had been removed, he had been designed with an emergency sustentation system that would supply just enough energy to keep his memory intact, thereby preventing potential data loss. So he knew when the two strangers had entered the lab. He knew of the cleanup work that had taken place. And he knew what Hell must be like.

Then, slowly, he could actually perceive more of his surroundings. His eyesight started to come back. He could feel his extremities, although just barely. Running a self-diagnostic of his computerized systems, he could tell that he had been hooked into the main power of the labs generators. As his vision finally focused true, he saw the one who had been referred to as "Doctor." Tall and gaunt, with a sharp goatee and mustache. Coal black, as was his hair. 

"What…" he started, before his voice went away again.

"Easy, Adam," the Doctor replied smoothly, "you haven't used your vocal processors, or your lungs for that matter, for almost a year."

"Why?" rasped the cyborg.

"You have some uniqueness to your genetic structure that intrigues me. From Dr. Walsh's notes, I determined that she could avoid necropsy in deceased tissue, but that it required an ongoing supply of her chemical mixture to maintain. You, on the other hand, have been altered. The chemical needed seems to be excreted on a cellular level. Genius, I must admit."

The Doctor checked a reading on the small panel next to Adam, and turned one knob counter-clockwise slightly. 

"Hmm, your power levels are high enough, I think," he commented.

"For…what?" asked Adam.

"My dear Adam," the Doctor sighed, "I need to download all available data on your DNA. Particularly that relating to how Dr. Walsh was able to avoid tissue rejection during the grafting of the demonic part of your structure. After I have that, well, I'm sure that I could study your uniqueness for years."

Adam could no longer speak, the power just wasn't there. He felt a connection being made in his processing unit, and could feel the data being pulled from him.

At that point, Victor Creed returned to the lab.

"Ah, Victor," the Doctor cried with mock gladness, "My insect problem is solved, yes?"

"No." Creed stated plainly. 

"You failed me again?" the man called Doctor asked sharply. "Remind me, exactly, why did I hire you?"

"The boy scout. I had cornered Graydon , and even with the Slayer, no problem. He came outta nowhere."

The Doctor narrowed his eyes. Xavier had tracked them somehow. And now his agents had fallen in with the Slayer, through circumstances he could not have foreseen. However, he did have some plans in place for just such an occurrence.

"Victor, I want you to deliver a message for me."

************

Cordelia pushed back from the computer screen and rubbed her eyes. 

"Nothing," she said plainly, "No police reports, no records of our mutants, nothing."

"Maybe we're looking in the wrong place," said Angel, brining her a cup of coffee. 

"I'm sure we are," commented Xavier, "Unfortunately, I have no idea where the right place to look would be."

"Cordelia," Jean asked, "What about your visions? Can they help?"

"No, 'fraid not," the brunette replied. "They come only when they're sent, and it's pure hell on me."

"So what then," asked Wesley, "Is there any other source of information we can tap?"

Cordelia sat thinking for a minute, not wanting to say what she was contemplating. Finally, she sighed, and looked over at Jean.

"Can you sing?" she asked.

************

Willow Rosenberg wasn't sure exactly what was going on. Anya had called the dorm room she shared with Tara McClay shortly after two, with a message from Buffy that she would be late, and would Willow and Tara mind watching after Dawn a bit longer. Then Xander calls about four, and says he just got an out of the blue bonus, and he's taking his favorite girls out to dinner tonight. When Willow informed him that Buffy was unavailable, he simply chuckled and asked how pizza sounded to everyone, he'd be glad to pick it up, and they could all eat at the Magic Box. No sooner does he arrive with said pizza, that Buffy calls, and asks for everyone to come down to the shop, there's something going on, and someone she want's them to meet, but don't tell Dawn anything, just bring her. So after a quick phone call to add two more pies to the stack, and a short stop to retrieve said pies, all of them; Willow, Tara, Dawn, and Xander, made their way into the only magical supply store in Sunnydale, California.

Dawn was holding the door so Xander could get in with the six pizza boxes, when Buffy called her name.

"Someone here to see you," she said.

Dawn turned and looked at the tall young man, and he smiled at her. Since he was wearing his glasses instead of his visor, his face was less hidden, and she recognized him instantly.

"SCOTTY!!!!" she screamed, throwing herself across the room and literally leaping into his arms. As Scott struggled to retain his balance, Buffy started laughing again.

"I don't think it's ever going to change, Scott." She said, giggling, and then walked over to the group of friends affectionately referred to as "The Scooby Gang" to update them on the day's events and introduce them to her cousin.

************

 "Wake up, Doctor. Your brilliant mind is much needed."

Henry McCoy opened his eyes, and immediately wished he'd remained unconscious. He was in a Plexiglas cell, one of many from the looks of it. The others were populated with various sizes and shapes of…well, they must be the missing demons that Angel Investigations were tracking, he mused. Most of them were humanoid, although they ranged from grotesque to simply massive. And in one cell lay a young woman with light skin and dark hair. Hank noticed the twin streaks of white that framed her face. All of them, like himself, were secured firmly down.

"Ah, much better. Welcome, Dr. McCoy." The voice said.

Hank turned his attention to where the voice came from, a shadowed computer console. The owner of the voice stepped forward, and he was holding a syringe in one hand. 

"And you might be?" Hank asked.

"My name is Nathaniel Essex," the man replied, "Doctor Nathaniel Essex. I doubt you've heard of me."

"There was a Doctor Nathaniel Essex in Chicago in the sixties," McCoy commented, "I believe he was disbarred for his unethical work regarding genetic experimentation. Any relation?"

The gaunt man smiled.

"Indeed, I am he."

"Impossible," Hank snorted, "Essex would be in his late fifties by now. You're what, thirty?"

"Oh, not impossible," Essex hissed, "What you see as youth is the result of years of work. You see, I have known of the coming age of mutation for some time, and have worked to ensure that the genetic potential of humanity is reached." Setting down the syringe, he started rolling up his sleeve.

"To that end," he continued, "I have modified my own genetic structure, ensuring that I would live long enough to finish my work. However," he paused, swabbing the inside of his arm, "It has now become apparent that I must be more active in my pursuits to ensure success. I must, in fact, mutate. That's where you come in."

"Dear sir," Henry stated, "You don't believe I would help you? If you are Essex, the work you did in Chicago was monstrous."

"The work I did in Chicago was child's play," Essex said coldly, "Successful enough for the needs of the time. But I digress. You see the young lady over there?" he gestured to the cell. 

"She's another of Xavier's students, calls herself 'Rogue.' She has the singular talent of absorbing the minds and abilities of those whom she touches for a small amount of time. This serum," he retrieved the syringe, "is fabricated from her DNA." 

Essex inserted the syringe in his arm and injected the fluid into his blood stream.

"It won't last long," he continued, entering the cell, "but I should be able to get the information I need from you in order to permanently merge genetic changes into my own DNA." 

He reached out and grabbed Henry's face. 

Henry McCoy screamed as his knowledge, his memories, indeed his very essence were pulled from him.

************

 "Well, well. This is a surprise," the Host and owner of Caritas commented to Cordelia and Jean as they came through the door. "Particularly since we've already had one visit from Angel Investigations today." He brushed a lock of blond hair off one of his red horns. "I'm afraid I told them everything I had, though."

"We're here for some more…" Cordelia paused, trying to find the right word, "Personal assistance," she finished. 

Jean looked around the bar. Having accepted that demons were real was one thing. Standing in a demon-populated karaoke bar was something else entirely. She took a deep breath and looked at the Host. Green skin, jutting chin, little red horns, and one hell of a wardrobe, complete with a Vegas host personality. Okay, I can do this, she told herself.

"…so we're hoping that maybe if she sang..?" Cordelia was saying.

"I could tell you were you could find our missing demon," the Host looked over at Jean with a smile, "and mutant population? Be glad to, come with me Red." He hooked his arm through Jean's and led her to the bar. He pulled out a song list and gestured to the bartender.

"Carlo, give the lady something nice on the house, she's a virgin," he looked over at a blushing Jean, "Singing wise, I mean."

"So, any ideas?" asked Cordelia as she joined the redhead at the bar.

"I have no clue," Jean sighed, "I've never done anything like this before."

"It's simple, dearest" said the host, "Just go through and find something you've always wanted to do."

Jean took the drink that appeared next to her and took a sip, Mai Tai. Perfect. She took a deep breath and started at the top of the list again.

"Lorne, I know it's a little unusual, but you mind if I lend a hand?" came a soft voice from behind them. 

Jean and Cordelia turned around to see a very attractive woman of about twenty five, with a few very standout features. One was the streaks of platinum in her chestnut hair, another was the fact that she only stood about five foot tall. Then of course, there was the figure, one that caused both women to be just a bit envious of the favor the breast fairy had shown, and she dressed to suit it, with a gypsy flair. But most striking thing about this woman had nothing to do with physical appearance. It was the overly large, extremely furry, orange cat who stared at them from its position wrapped around her shoulders. The cat looked at Jean and maowed.

"Alexis, darling, I could never refuse you anything," the Host replied, "Ladies, may I introduce Alexis Vanadis. One of my absolute favorite people, gifted with a voice that must have come from the Gods, and the only woman you're ever likely to meet with a Seeing Eye cat."

"Cat?" asked Cordelia, sipping on her own drink.

Jean meanwhile had noticed that the Norwegian Forrest would look exactly where his mistress did. And that the eyes behind the purple colored glasses didn't focus exactly like they should.

"You're linked to the cat," she said, amazed.

"Not exactly, this is Pangor, by the way," Alexis replied, plucking the song list from Jean's hand. "But it's a long story that would best be told another time. By the way, ladies, whom am I working with here?" she started scanning the list, the cat moving it's head in time with her eyes.

"Cordelia Chase," said the brunette, "And this is Jean Grey, we're…"

"Looking for someone, yes," Alexis said, "So am I, or rather, one of my employees is." Her finger stopped. "Aha!" She turned the list around so the others could see her choice.

"Well ladies," she asked, "Shall we find our answers together?"

Jean and Cordelia looked at each other, and smiled.

************

Nathaniel Essex was not one to show emotions often, but this was almost tempting. He held the new serum up to the light, watching the prism effect in the beaker. He glanced at the Portuguese woman standing towards the end of the lab.

"Ms. Sontag, we have samples of genetic material from all the specimens except for the X'noxx," he said, "I have finished with this part of my work, thanks to the mind of Doctor McCoy. Get the last sample."

"Isn't that Creed's job?" the woman sneered.

"I have Victor doing other work at the moment, Ms. Sontag," Essex stated calmly, "Therefore I am asking you." He faced her, and she felt an involuntary shiver run down her spine, "If you insist, I could make it a demand."

"No, Doctor," she sighed, "That won't be necessary."

The woman named Phillipa Sontag, and sometimes called ArcLight, opened the door to the cell of the X'noxx demon. It was large. Huge, actually, and had a dense skin that made it for all intents and purposes invulnerable. Essex had discovered a soft section inside the ear, however, that a needle could penetrate. They had kept the air in this chamber loaded with sedatives to reduce difficulty. 

However, as she prepared to insert the needle, the X'noxx opened its eyes, and with one pull, freed itself from it's bonds, throwing her across the cell in the process. 

The demon wasted no time, and ran from its cell. While it's immense bulk slowed it down, its strength could flatten anything that stood in it's way. So then, Essex wondered as he prepared to flood the entire chamber with sedative gas, was it running directly towards Rogue's cell? Then he noticed that the door to that cell had not been closed since he retrieved his latest sample of her blood. He ran to the control panel to close it before the X'noxx could enter.

He was too late, the door slammed home immediately behind the demon. 

No longer running, the X'noxx released the breath he'd been holding and looked at the girl tied down to the bed. There was fear in her eyes, and he regretted that this had to happen.

"Forgive me, little one," he said, a voice that rang of thunder in the mountains, "But there is no other way if any of us are to survive." 

And with that he reached out and cupped Rogues face in his large hand. 

Rogue screamed as the images of the X'noxx homeland entered her mind. His name was K'thon. He was an officer of the court. X'noxx was his home. A land of dense air and little land, they had evolved into beings of great strength and toughness in order to survive this realm. And they could fly! Simply by the strength of their own minds, they could hurl themselves from place to place at speeds that were unbelievable. But K'thon had dishonored his family, and his punishment was to be sent to this realm for a period of ten cycles. Here, his strength could barely keep him alive, each breath was torture, and the ability to fly was negated by the increased mass. 

This was Hell to him. 

Then, as the last of his life force came into her body, Rogue heard him speak to her.

"It is better this way," his mind said to hers, "I regain honor by giving my life to a cause. Use my strengths to fight this battle, young one. Do not let me die in vain."

As K'thon fell to the floor, Rogue screamed again, this time in rage. She tore the bonds that held her as though they were paper, and flung herself against the door of the cell.

Essex however, had not been simply watching as this happened. He had already started the flow of sedative into that room, and he now increased it to full strength.

Rogue's world was fading as she pounded on the Plexiglas. She didn't know why she suddenly felt so weak. And then she too fell to the floor, unconscious.

Essex walked over to the cell and studied the cracks that had appeared in the door. If he'd reacted only one second later, she very likely would have escaped. He sighed. The X'noxx was useless to him now. He needed living genetic material to work with. Fortunately, he had taken a larger supply from Rogue the last time. Her near invulnerable state would not hinder him. He would simply have to make do with the genetic material he'd taken from the other demons. Although the invulnerable skin would have been useful, it was a luxury after all. He looked down at his hand, noticing that some of the other DNA he'd grafted into his system was beginning to alter his skin tone. His already pale complexion was turning to a chalk white.

His eyes wandered over to Henry McCoy, still unconscious after the mind transfer. He smiled, and walked over to the cell. There was one more theory regarding true genetic potential he wanted to test.

************

 "Well, ladies, I must say that is the most enthusiastic rendition of 'Venus' I've heard in a long time," said the Host, grinning wide and presenting the ladies each with a drink. 

"It's easier doing this three voices thing," said Cordelia, smiling. 

"It's called 'harmony,'" Alexis suggested.

"Right," Cordelia agreed, "Anyway, lets us all work without holding the whole thing."

Alexis thought about Cordelia's voice singing solo and grimaced slightly. Jean was apparently having the same thoughts. Pangor simply maowed again.

"So, Lorne," Alexis said, "Where do we each go?"

"That's the ironic part, m'dear," the Host replied, "Seems like all three of you are on the same track."

"Milbury?" asked Alexis.

"That's one name he likes to use," the Host confirmed, "And it seems that your," he pointed at Jean, "…companions, and your," his attention shifted to Cordelia, "…missing demons, are all linked up with," he turned back to Alexis, "…your renegade mad scientist. Looks like you ladies need to head south."

"South?" asked Jean.

"Let me guess," moaned Cordelia, "Sunnydale."


	4. Destinations and Revelations

 IV  Destinations and Revelations 

She was beautiful; he had to admit that much. Tall and statuesque, with full lips and blonde hair that had the perfect wave women would spend a small fortune achieving. Essex looked around the lavishly furnished apartment while he awaited his audience. He wondered what it was that would make a power such as hers be so concerned with such physical items. He stopped his thoughts in order to listen as the…lackey that brought him up explained his presence to her.

"But, Most Magnificent One, he says he has useful information on the Slayer, and I thought that, since you know the key is connected to her, you would want to hear what he knew," the withered demon was saying.

"And so you bring this stranger up, interrupting me as I'm getting ready to take a bath?" the woman asked, incredulous, "You know how crabby I get if I don't get my bath!"

"But, oh, Causer of Naughtiest of Thoughts, he was very insistent."

"HE was insistent?" 

"Great Glorificus…"

"Glory," the blonde interrupted, exasperated, "How many times do I have to tell you? Are you a complete moron? Bad enough I have to tolerate existing with these…humans, let alone a groups of walking fashion disasters that can't even remember my instructions!"

She adjusted the skin tight red dress she was wearing, and smoothed an imaginary rough spot from her hair. "Oh, alright then, introduce him…"

The already hunched demon seemed to grovel even further as he approached Essex, who looked at him with utter distaste. 

Glory turned and looked at Essex for the first time. He seemed pale for a human, but at least he dressed well. The black jacket and white turtleneck seemed to suit his face, with it's sharp angles and perfect goatee.  As she came forward the demon spoke again.

"Reason For My Very Existence," he said, "This is Doctor Nathaniel Essex, and he claims to have information that would be of use to you."

"And what makes you think I'd be interested in any information you have?" Glory asked.

"I'm not entirely sure you would," Essex replied. During the overheard conversation, he realized why a being such as her would be concerned with physical items. She was indeed quite mad. "However," he continued, "We both have something to gain by your knowing."

"Y'know," Glory said, walking up to him, "If you're jerking me around, I can make your life very uncomfortable. I am a God after all."

"I assure you, Glorificus," Essex started,

"'Scuse me, Doc., but didn't you hear what I told Scabby here?"

"Of course, Glory," Essex smoothed, "I have no hidden agenda here. I simply am very busy, and having the Slayer interrupt me right now would be unfortunate."

"Unfortunate," Glory echoed, "For you. What do I get? The Slayers whereabouts? I can find that anytime I want it, thank you." She stepped back and looked for a moment at Essex, thinking. "On the other hand," she continued, "You look very intelligent, and I happen to be really hungry right now…" 

With unbelievable speed, Glory reached out and tried to grab Essex's head with both hands. At least that's how it appeared to him. He was very surprised when the hands instead went **into** his temples. 

Glory started to feed, and her eyes widened as far as they could when she realized that this…mortal was resisting her. She increased the pull on Essex's mind. Again. And again. To no effect. Essex simply stared at her as though she was some interesting specimen in his lab. She looked into his eyes and saw nothing. No fear. No pain. If anything, the black eyes reflected only contempt.

"Are you quite finished, my dear?" he asked, "I really am very busy right now."

Glory pulled her hands from his head, shocked.

"What **are** you?" she whispered. "No one can resist my pull like that."

"Simply put," Essex said with a smile, "I am the result of Encouraged Evolution."

He brushed some non-existent dust from his sleeve as he continued, "The Slayer, and her allies, quite likely will be mounting an assault on the abandoned military base just north of town in the very near future. Keep an eye open there, and you'll have her."

"I'll consider that," Glory said, still shaken, "Thank you for the information, Doctor."

"Of course, dear lady," Essex smiled at her, and Glory knew for a moment what someone faced with her own smile must feel like, " My pleasure." And with that, he left.

Glory sat down on her overstuffed sofa, while her demon lackey hovered around her, waiting for it's next order. She was very distraught, never had **anything** like this happened to her. She was a God, right? Right. Time to start acting like it again. This was a fluke. A one-time happening. She couldn't be defeated. She was Glorificus. 

"Okay, you heard the man," she told the demon, "Get someone watching that base."

"Yes, Truly Spectacular Source of Nocturnal Emissions," said the demon as he scurried off to do his mistresses bidding.

Outside, as the elevator doors closed, Nathaniel Essex leaned back against the wall, and exhaled. He hadn't expected that response, and his information on Glorificus had been somewhat lacking. Fortunately, the amount of genetic enhancement he'd managed to finish to date had saved his mind. 

He straightened up as the elevator halted at the ground floor. Striding from the opening doors, he decided he must finish his work quickly, he had to ensure his continued existence despite any circumstance. Catching his reflection briefly in a polished brass plaque, he noticed a small red diamond shape, almost like a birthmark, was beginning to show in the center of his forehead. 

Dismissing it, he pulled a cell phone from his jacket pocket and dialed a pre-programmed number.

"Victor," he said into the mouthpiece, "You did get me the appointment with Glorificus, but your information was not up to par." He waited a moment, "No, no problems." Another pause. "I think it's time for us to start keeping tabs on the Slayer. She'll likely discover our whereabouts soon and I want to know when she's coming. Send Sung. No, I have other preparations I need you to make…"

************

Wesley Windham Price released the breath he'd unconsciously been holding in once the plane had landed. A modified SR-71 Blackbird, it had come screaming out of the eastern sky and then hovered into a landing. As the plane settled in, it's joints relaxing now that it had stopped moving, the door on the side opened up, and a ramp extended to the ground. Wesley held his breath again as the vision of Ororo Munroe exited the plane. Remy and Logan followed quickly. 

"Welcome to Los Angeles," he said as the group approached him, "If you'll follow me, the Professor is waiting inside."

"What about Jean and Scott?" asked Ororo.

"Jean is with one of my associates," Wesley replied, "Tracking down a lead on our problem." He held the door open for the others. "Scott has gone to a town about two hours south of here. His Aunt died recently, and the Professor thought he should go and see on his cousins while there was a bit of downtime."

"More Summers?" mumbled Logan.

"Jus' what this world needs, non?" asked Remy quietly.

As they entered the hotel, they heard Angel answer the phone, and then call out:

"Professor? It's Scott. Sabretooth's in Sunnydale."

************

Willy's was not a normal bar, except perhaps in Sunnydale, California. The main clientele were demons. Tonight was no exception. And the one time scourge of Europe, William the Bloody, also known as "Spike," came into the bar looking for something very particular. Spike was a vampire, and he had been a damned good one. But that was before a covert government operation had installed a bio-feedback chip in his head, with the end result that he couldn't hurt any human without suffering severe pain himself. And if that wasn't bad enough, he had fallen in love with the Slayer. Oddly enough, none of that was on his mind tonight. Tonight, he had one thing he needed to do. He walked up to the bar and gestured to Willy.

"You got hot chocolate?" he asked.

Willy started snickering.

"You're kidding, right?" he asked with a grin.

Spike leaned into the bar, looking the keeper in the eyes. 

"No, mate. I'm not kidding. Someone I care about died recently, and we used to share a cuppa hot cocoa. You got a problem with that?"

Willy gulped. He knew about Spike's chip, but figured it would just be his luck that it would somehow malfunction if Willy himself was concerned.

"Okay, no problem." He said quickly, "You want a shot in that?"

"Yeah, why not?" Spike muttered. He looked around the bar while Willy retrieved his drink, spotting an empty booth in the back where he could be alone. When his cocoa was delivered, he walked towards the booth. The other demons in the bar stayed out of his way, either out of disgust or fear. It was known that he only fought with demons now. But he did have a nasty habit of winning. Taking his seat, he stared into his cup for a moment.

"Here's to you, Joyce," he whispered, "I'm really gonna miss you."

He sat in silence, nursing his drink, and pondering how it had come about that he cared for any of these people at all, let alone the Slayer's family. Sure, Joyce had always treated him like a real person, and that hadn't happened for a long time. But it was more than that, as he'd told Dawn at one point, "I'm tired of seeing the Summers women take it on the chin."

And now something weird was going on. Weird for Sunnydale even. Couple of hours ago, Spike could of sworn he heard rumor of someone trying to track down Glory. And now the word was being spread that someone, maybe even that same someone, wanted extra security. Hiring every demon that would take the work.

Spike sat thinking for a while longer. Buffy had made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. Dawn still liked him though, and Joyce would want him to let her know what he'd heard. Then again, after what Buffy had told him when he hadn't broken under Glory's torture….

"Bugger it. No use lettin' em get blindsided." And he, too, got up and left.

************

 "So you're saying, if we had just waited an hour or so, we never would have had to sing?" Cordelia Chase asked from the back of the plane. 

"It's not so bad, Cordelia," Alexis Vanadis turned from a couple seats ahead of the young seer, "I still needed a ride to Sunnydale."

"…I sang, and I wasn't even drunk…"

**_"Unfortunately, we weren't either,"_** Alexis heard in her mind. Grinning, she thought back at Jean "**_It would've been easier?"_**

****

She let out a short burst of laughter when Jean replied, **_"It would have to be."_**

"Sorry," she said, noticing the Professor and Angel looking at her with questioning eyes, "I really don't like flying, so I try to remember every joke Nicholas ever told me."

****

Logan and Remy simply exchanged glances as Jean started giggling quietly directly behind them.  

Composing herself, Jean turned and asked Alexis vocally, "Nicholas is the employee you spoke of at the bar?"

"Yes, he and his brother both work for me. Nicholas and Spencer Graydon," she scratched the ever-present Pangor absently behind the ears, resulting in a very satisfied purr. "Spencer was driving east, and will meet us there, in fact," she turned and faced Angel, "He's meeting us at the Airport, with a large van. Complete with a windowless back end." Angel nodded appreciatively, knowing that the last rays of afternoon sunshine could be easily avoided long enough to exit the building and get into a van.

"What about the other one, Nicholas?" he asked.

"Nicholas, oddly, had already found some trace of our suspect in Sunnydale. He's with Mr. Summers. I'm going to have to remind him to update the rest of us more frequently."

"Dis th' same Nick Graydon used to work for th' FBI?" asked Remy from the co-pilots seat.

"Unless there were two," Alexis confirmed.

"Merde', we got a problem," Remy muttered to himself.

"No you don't LeBeau," said Alexis, "He didn't bust you then, he's not going to bust you now."

Everyone in the plane looked up at the now blushing Remy. 

"Hey, everyone here know I used to be a t'ief, why the surprise?" he asked.

"Actually, you should be glad to have someone of this caliber with you," Alexis said bluntly, "According to Nicholas, the names LeBeau, Templar and Kyle all belong in the same sentence." 

"He said that?" Remy turned and asked.

"Absolutely," Alexis replied, "In fact, he's said more than once that the particular evening in question was one of the best times he's ever had."

 "Sunnydale airport, two minutes folks," said Logan. "Everyone strap in while I call the tower."

"Logan," called the Professor from the back, "Ask them to clear you for a private hanger, and use this code," Xavier closed his eyes and focused at Logan for a moment.

"Federal Codes, Chuck?" replied Logan, amused, "This groups got more secrets than Houdini."

"I borrowed them from a friend that used to work for Interpol," whispered Xavier to Alexis, who chuckled, "Do you think your employee knows him as well?"

"You never know," she whispered back conspiratorially, "Small world, isn't it?"

"Indeed," said Xavier through a smile, and then they all settled in for a landing.

************

 "Doctor McCoy? You really should see this."

Henry McCoy pulled himself once again from the unnatural sleep he'd been in. His vision was still a bit fuzzy, and his body felt…wrong somehow.

"Doctor, you're awake. I'd like you to see the results of my work in true genetic potential."

"What are you rambling on about, lunatic?" Hank mumbled.

"You see, Doctor, mutations such as yours are actually rather…incomplete. My work in this field has allowed me to tap into the potential of a mutation, and expand upon it."

"What have you done?" McCoy was starting to get panicked. He could now tell that he'd been moved to an upright position, but there was something still wrong. He felt, larger somehow, and…warmer. His vision was finally starting to clear, it looked as if someone were standing in front of him, also outstretched. Someone…blue?

"Why just look in the mirror, Doctor McCoy. See your mutation evolved to it's highest potential. If you will excuse me, my work on transferring mutation to my own DNA is progressing nicely, and in fact, is almost complete; thanks to the memories I borrowed from you. Consider this a form of payment." Hank heard the footsteps walking away, but couldn't take his eyes off the image in front of him. 

It wasn't someone else standing there. It was a mirror. He was seeing his own reflection. Except that this was not the Hank McCoy that had looked back at him every morning for the last three decades. This Hank McCoy was larger, even broader on the shoulders. He had fangs, and claws, and pointed ears, and fully prehensile feet, and most notably, long blue fur covering his entire body.

Doctor Henry McCoy screamed until his voice went out, first out of horror, then out of rage.

************

Spike was exiting the sewers on his way to the Magic Box when he saw him. A small, oriental man in non-descript clothing watching the back of the shop. From where Spike stood, it looked like he was pointing some sort of eavesdropping device towards the back of the building.

"Well, what have we here?" he said to himself.

The man continued, apparently not hearing Spikes rhetorical question, and adjusted the earpiece connected to the small dish-like component in his hand. Spike approached his quarry silently.

"How can I get one of those, mate?" he asked, grabbing the smaller man by the shoulder.

"Well, all you really…" the man started, turning. He then broke off as he saw who had grabbed him, "..don't have a chance." He launched a well placed kick into Spikes side, throwing him off balance. 

Spike recovered quickly, and blocked a second kick aimed at his head. This man was good, probably a black belt. Of course, he thought, I've been a black belt for about a hundred years more. Too bad…

"You can't hit me," the oriental said flatly, finishing his thought for him, "I know about the chip. Why don't we just walk our separate ways?"

"No chance, mate," Spike finished, "You're spyin' on some friends of mine, can't just let ya go, y'unnerstand."

"And just what do you plan to do about it?"

"Oh, I dunno," Spike said, "Maybe this?" and he launched a vicious roundhouse left at the man's temple. He knew he was in for one hell of a headache, but whatever was going on, Buffy needed to know about it, and this was his only chance.

The punch connected full force, and the oriental went flying into the wall of the adjoining building head first. Spike reached up and grabbed his own head out of instinct before he realized there was no pain. No pain at all. He looked over at the unconscious form sprawled on the ground.

"Oh, now this is an interesting turn of events, innit Wong?" he said with a grin. He effortlessly hoisted the man up on his shoulder and resumed his course to the Magic Box.

************

The black van had pulled up directly in front of the Magic Box. As Giles held the door open, Angel ran from the van into the shop covered with a blanket. The remaining occupants of the van exited at a more leisurely pace. As Anya flipped the sign around to read "Closed" and locked the door, introductions were made around the table in the center of the shop. Giles was the first to speak on the business at hand.

"Somehow, this Milbury character has been kidnapping demons in LA?" he asked.

"That's what the evidence points to," confirmed Wesley.

"And that's what the Host said," added Cordelia.

"He also commented that Milbury was an assumed name," said Alexis.

"Great, mad geneticist with a false identity, the hits just keep coming," murmured Graydon.

"You ever think we're going to get a normal case, bro?" asked Spencer. One could tell that they were brothers. Spencer's hair was redder than Nicholas', and he kept a full beard trimmed around the edges of his jaw. But the facial structure and the shape of the blue eyes behind the glasses gave it away. Unlike his brother, Spencer dressed simply, in jeans and a tee shirt.

"Never happen," Nicholas said with a grin.

"Dis Milbury, you got a picture of 'im, Nick?" asked Remy.

Nicholas pulled the security photo from the file and handed it over.

Remy looked at the photo, and shook his head.

"Oh, mes amis, we are in a pile of shit now," he commented. "His real name is Nat'anial Essex. And he want's to control the genetic destiny of de whole damn race."

"Is this the same Essex that was arrested and tried in Chicago?" asked Xavier.

"Oui."

"I think perhaps you'd better explain some things, Remy," Xavier said quietly.

Remy looked around the table at the people who'd become his family over the last year. He never wanted this subject to arise, but they needed to know what they were up against.

"I worked for him, once," he started, "When my powers first manifested, I couldn't control 'em. He offered to 'elp me, if I did some favors for 'im." He stopped for a minute, and looked at nothing in particular as he thought of how to phrase his next statements. "Essex 'ad several mutants working for 'im, and studied each of them. Somehow, 'ed managed to extend his own life, and I t'ink done more dan dat. I saw 'is lab once, and saw what was left of at least a dozen mutants." He refocused his attention on the people around him. "Dis is an evil man, mes amis, an' a dangerous one."

No one spoke for a moment, absorbing what Remy had said, and what he had not.

"S…s..so, how do we find him?" ventured Tara after a moment.

"That's another problem," said Buffy, "Nick and I scoped out likely hideouts he'd be using, came up totally blank."

"So, he's got Hank and Rogue, and we have no idea where he is, or what he's planning," Scott summarized. 

There was a crash from the back room, and Buffy, Angel, Nicholas, Giles, Remy, Logan and Scott all ran to the doorway. Opening it up, they saw Spike dropping a man onto the floor.

"I'm not sure what's going on, Slayer," he said, "But I'll bet this nancy-pants git has something to do with it." 

"What happened to him, Spike?" growled Angel. 

"I hit him, Peaches," Spike said smugly, "Didn't hurt either," 

"Your chip?" Buffy asked.

"Didn't kick in," Spike confirmed, "Must be a demon in disguise, I figure."

The others had all come into the room at this point, and Ororo saw the figure on the floor.

"Goddess!" she exclaimed, "Professor, that is one of the men who attacked the school. He's the one that turned my own powers against me!"

All of the Sunnydale regulars turned to look at her.

"You were attacked by demons?" asked Xander.

"Mutants," said Ororo, "Like us."

Buffy looked over to Spike, who shrugged.

"And the chip didn't activate at all?" Giles asked.

"Nope, not one bloody bit," Spike replied.

No one else spoke for a moment. Then Nicholas Graydon spoke up.

"Makes sense," he said.

"What makes sense?" Scott asked.

"This chip they're talking about," he turned to Spike, "Kick's in whenever you attempt to harm a human, right?"

"Damn straight," Spike spat, "Like getting a stick of dynamite going off in yer head, it is."

"Put in by the government, I suppose, some secret organization?" Nicholas pressed on.

"They called themselves The Initiative," Buffy answered, "They were the governments secret demon task force."

"Yeah, right," said Nicholas, "Let me guess, 'We're going to take these demons…'," he stopped a second, "No, not demons, something far more ubiquitous, like 'Paranormal Hostile Entities...'"

The Sunnydale gang smiled, and a few actually let out a laugh.

"'Hostile Subterestrials, actually," said Buffy.

"Right, HST, perfect," continued Nicholas, "And they said 'We're gonna use the HSTs to protect the human race?', Right?"

Several nods answered his question.

"Anybody ever think to ask from what?" asked Nicholas.

No one spoke for a moment. 

"Well, we assumed from demons," said Willow, "I mean, that is what we saw them fighting."

"That's what we saw them capturing," corrected Giles.

"You mean the whole project was set up," started Xander, "as some sort of secret anti-mutant task force?"

"That'd be my guess," said Nicholas, "Look at the evidence." He pointed to the still unconscious man on the floor. "Blondie over there…"

"Hey!" shouted Spike.

"…can't even say boo to your average human Joe, but give him a Mutant to tear into, and it's party time." He pulled out a cigarette, and this time no one complained. "Rat bastards were probably so far under that the President didn't even know the real reason they existed."

Buffy suddenly got a very angry look in her eyes.

"I get ahold of Riley Finn," she whispered,

"If you're talking about one of the grunts," Nicholas commented, "I'll guarantee you they were fed the same line of bullshit. The only ones who would really have known about it would be the assholes in DC that pulled the plug when they realized if you play with demons, you get eaten." He pulled a drag off his smoke, and exhaled forcefully, "Just the way the gumment works, kids," he finished.

"Screwed either way," muttered Logan. "Either experimentin' on us, or tryin' to wipe us out."

Everyone was quiet again for a moment, and the look on Buffy Summer's face softened a bit, just. It was Spike who finally broke the silence.

"Yeah, well, there's been a bit o' weirdness in the area. I was headed here to warn you blokes about it when I ran into sunshine here," he pointed at the oriental, "usin' some sort of James Bond gadget out back. Thought I'd try to spook 'im, see what I could find out, but he already knew about the chip. He threw a couple of punches, I threw one. Here he is." He stepped back towards the door. "Just thought you oughta know about it," he said to Buffy.

"Then he knows where Essex is," she said in turn, "Nice work, Spike." She noticed his working his way back to the door, "Stick around, we might need you," she finished, ignoring the look Angel shot her. Spencer and Nicholas lifted the unconscious man into a chair and located a roll of tape to secure him with.

"We need to get the information from him," commented Xavier, "I normally would be against using my gifts to pry unwanted, but I don't think we have a choice."

"Professor, wait," said Alexis, "Ororo said this guy turned her power against her, if his talent is activated as a defense mechanism…"

"You'd probably end up in a coma," Jean finished. "We need another method."

 "I could interrogate him the old fashioned way," murmured Logan.

"Ah, Logan?" Giles asked, "Didn't we determine that this fellow can turn mutant powers against their owners?"

"Mine's strictly passive," Logan growled, "What's he gonna do, heal me ta death?" He held up his left hand, balled into a fist, "Besides," he continued, "these work pretty well for interrogation." 

The sound of metal sliding against metal was heard as three twelve inch blades shot out from between his knuckles, glinting in the light of the room.

Nicholas stopped what he was working on and whistled in appreciation. He nudged his brother, who nodded his head. "Look's like we got ourselves a whole room of bad cops here," Nick said as Logan withdrew the blades back into his arm. 

"Yer not the only one that's been experimented on," Logan told Spike.

It was right about then that Cordelia Chase fell to the floor and began screaming.

**_White on auburn, hair? Human. Demon. Demon. Demon…wait, something familiar. No, blue, big, furry, raging. Red on white, diamond?_**

Willow, Wesley, and Alexis, being the closest, all tried to hold her still as she started thrashing about. They were assisted quickly as Angel crossed the room to his friend's side, concern obvious on his face. Buffy looked at him for a moment, then to Cordelia. She edged her way towards Gunn.

Meanwhile, through the pain, Cordelia was trying to make sense of what she was seeing. **_What is that? Monster, chained, fear. Laughter? The diamond again._** Just flashes. Moments. 

"She's not the same drama queen she was, is she?" Buffy whispered to Gunn.

Gunn didn't know Cordelia from that time, but she had told him all about being Queen Bitch of Sunnydale High.

"Not even close," he whispered back. 

Nicholas meanwhile had pulled a small capsule sealed in plastic from his wallet. While Xander brought a glass of water over, he held the pill to Cordelia's lips.

"Here, this will help," he soothed. Angel started to question him about the medicine when he was cut off by Alexis.

"Nicholas has Cluster headaches, its Imitrex," she assured him quietly. "If the nerves being affected are the same as migraines, it should help," she looked softly at the tortured seer. "If only slightly," she added.

As Cordelia caught her breath she started to tell the others what she had seen.

"It's all jumbled up. A lot of different demons, all in cages. But there was a…" she thought for a second before proceeding, "blue gorilla, I think. But it looked familiar somehow. And a woman. A human woman. With a streak of white in her hair."

"Dat's Rogue," Remy said.

"Something else too. I mean, it was obviously some kind of laboratory, y'know, computers and tables and cages, something about a red diamond, I dunno, but on the wall, I mean tied to it, was this…thing."

"What kind of thing," Wesley prompted, holding her glass for her as she started to get to her feet.

"I dunno," Cordelia replied, "It looked like a horror movie monster, I mean, like Frankenstien or something."

Buffy's head shot up at this.

"Cordy," she started, "Did it have brown hair, and a split face, and like a metal cap," she held her hand to the left side of her head, "about here?"

"Yeah, that's it," Cordelia confirmed, "What is it?"

"Adam," whispered Willow. She, Buffy, Xander, and Giles shared a glance for a moment, visibly shaken. Alexis lifted her head at this. Noticing the look, Nicholas and Spencer discreetly made their way over to her.

"Adam?" asked Scott.

"The greatest mistake the Initiative made," said Giles, "Part human, part demon and part machine. Designed to be the ultimate killing soldier."

"But you guys beat him, right?" asked Cordelia.

"Barely," said Xander, "And it took all four of us to do it."

"He really means all four of us too," added Willow, "I mean, we had to merge into one person, magically."

"And even then, there were some unforeseen consequences," said Giles. 

The four friends shared another look, and this time Alexis looked absolutely puzzled. Nicholas whispered: "What?"

"Cheese," she replied.

"Cheese?" asked Spencer.

"All four had a very strong emotional reaction just now, and it had something to do with cheese." Alexis said quietly. 

"I don't want to know," decided Nicholas.

"But the government sealed off the Initiative," Buffy was saying, "They filled the whole thing in with cement."

"Buffy," Willow interjected, "When we were down there, we discovered Adam in a section that didn't exist on the plans, remember? Maybe they, I dunno, missed it somehow?"

"The caves are still there," Spike added, "That's how I used to get in."

"If dat's de only way in, y' can 'spect it to be guarded," said Remy, "Essex take 'is security pretty serious."

"There's got to be another way," commented Spencer, "At least one air ducting system, probably two."

"We don't have much time to find it," said Scott, "Cordelia only saw one human in her vision, we don't know about Hank."

Nicholas stood up, pulling a small phone from his belt.

"I need to make a call," he said, walking into the front of the shop.

************

"This better be good," the voice on the other end growled out.

"I need some information," Nicholas stated, "There was a military black-ops project run out of Sunnydale, California. Code name…"

"The Initiative, yeah. They've been shut down for almost a year. Whole place has been decommissioned," the voice replied.

"Nope, not all of it. Apparently Walsh had a secondary project going, something that wasn't on the original plan," Nicholas said. "Someone had to fund it, so there has to be a blueprint somewhere. I know that the main entrance is in the caverns just north of town."

Nicholas heard the click clack of a keyboard over the line, and the man he was speaking with whistled.

"Damn. You know how to pick 'em."

"What?" Nicholas asked.

"Seems that file's been sealed off completely, and without a trace of who did it. Hang on," there was more clicking heard, "Ah-Ha! They forgot something. Okay, here we are. There was a secondary project underway, sort of an offshoot of the original. Walsh had additional space created to house it. Looks like there's a northern air duct and a southern emergency exit. They're equidistant from the main entry point in the caverns, in a triangle pattern. I've sent an email with a map to your account."

"Thanks, I owe you one,"

"Graydon, there's more…apparently this was all below the military radar. Someone else was footing the bill."

"Any idea who?"

"Not yet," Nicholas heard the anticipation of discovery in the man's voice, "But I intend to find out. I'll keep you posted." Nicholas heard the click of the other man disconnecting.

"Willow!" he called out, "I need to get at my email, can I borrow your computer?"

************

"We're going to break up into groups of three," Scott was saying. On the wall behind him was a map of the area just north of Sunnydale, with three circles in red showing the targets. He had changed into his battle uniform, as had the other X-Men, variations of the same black form-fitting padded leather armor. His battle-visor sat covering his eyes, containing the massive power that lay within. Ororo wore a simpler designed uniform that was not as bulky as the others, but had the addition of a long cloak that attached at the wrists and elbows. Remy wore a worn, brown leather trench-coat over his suit, with lots of pockets to keep both the cards he used as a conduit for his mutant ability, and the tools he needed for his thievery. Logan wore a uniform similar to Scott's, but with yellow piping instead of red. Jean's uniform was somewhere between Logan's and Ororo's in regards to bulk, allowing her more freedom to move but also buffering any impact that might occur. She had tied her long red hair into a bun to keep it out of her way.

"Nick, we need you, Remy, and Spike to go in from the northern ducts. Spencer, you, Ororo and Gunn take the southern access." Buffy added. "Me, Scott, Jean, Angel, and Logan go straight up the middle, where the most guards are likely to be."

"You're also sendin' the thieves to sneak in the back," Logan commented.

"Exactly," Scott said, "The rest of you, follow behind us a way at the cavern entrance, we need someone watching our backs."

"We don't know how many Essex has working for him," Alexis said, "From what Remy said, we can expect this to be a trap." She, too, had changed clothes, and now wore a pair of dark jeans with a denim jacket and combat boots. "We give enough space to make it look like only the heavy hitters are going in, and then close the gap. Maybe even get through the fighting and into the lab itself."

"And do what, exactly?" Spike asked. "I mean, bein' blind and…" he stopped suddenly, catching the knife that was headed at his forehead.

Alexis stood, a second knife in her hand, staring at Spike. Pangor was looking at him from between her legs.

"Bein' blind," she mocked, "Hasn't slowed me down in the least, Spike." 

"Bloody hell," Spike whispered, "I am impressed." He tossed the blade back to its owner.

"Willow and Tara can deliver the goods magically," Alexis said, catching the knife, "And I know that Xander and Giles can both handle themselves pretty damn well in a fight." She looked over to Buffy for confirmation as she slid the blade into a concealed holster under the sleeve of her jacket. The slayer simply nodded her response, but Xander felt a slight swell of pride at the unspoken comment.

"Hey," piped up Anya, "What about me?"

"Relax, Ahn," said Buffy, "No one's planning to leave you behind. I'm sure the oversight was an accident."

"Absolutely," picked up Alexis, "My apologies, Anya." She smiled at the ex-demoness. 

"Well, okay then," Anya said.

"If some of us can get through, we might be able to free some of the captives, or distract Essex," Alexis finished.

"When we get in," Nicholas picked up the briefing, "We have three objectives. One, find and free Rogue, Hank, and the LA demons; two, destroy any work that Essex has going on. These two have to happen, period. If it's possible, we add number three, and take out Essex, himself." As he finished, he pulled on the finishing touch to his wardrobe for the evening, a very well worn dark olive Australian oiler that comfortably covered his double shoulder holster. He and Spencer had both donned the same dark jean and boot combination as their employer, but Spencer opted for simply a dark, long sleeved shirt, and a backpack to carry his equipment in. Nicholas on the other hand, wore a black turtleneck, and added a pair of black leather fingerless gloves. On his belt were multiple clips for the two weapons he had holstered.

"I'll remain here with Dawn," said Professor Xavier, "And I'll act as a telepathic conduit for the rest of you."

"Good," said Buffy, "No radio traffic that way, but we'll all know what's going on." She had already made this arrangement with the Professor, but wanted it to seem like someone else's idea. Dawn didn't know that Xavier would also be telepathically masking their presence from Glory, making it appear that the shop was empty. For this little while at least, that was one thing the slayer didn't need to worry about. However, if Glory was keeping tabs on them, and somehow found out where everyone was…she came to a decision regarding something she had been considering since the beginning of this affair. While she knew that Alexis and the Graydon brothers knew a little, until now she had only informed the Professor about the details concerning Glory. And of those concerning her sister. 

"There's something else you all should know," she started. "Right now, there's someone very powerful that's causing us a hard time."

"ah, Buffy," Giles started, "Are you sure…"

"Giles, they need to know. If Glory somehow shows up…"

"Glorificus?" asked Alexis, "She's in Sunnydale?" 

"Um, Lex?" muttered Nicholas, "I think I kinda forgot to brief you on that…"

"We live, you're fired," replied Alexis, shooting him a look that indicated he'd best not survive the current crisis.

"Who is Glorificus?" asked Ororo.

"A god, from one of the many hell-realms," said Alexis simply. "And a pretty damned powerful one at that from what my sources say."

"Your sources are right," stated Buffy "She's taken about everything we can dish out, and it hasn't done more than slow her down."

Scott Summers was shaken again. He had accepted that Buffy had been called into a dangerous role, but this was something else. 

"A god?" he asked, "What does she want?"

A very quiet voice drifted over to the assembled crew, from the sofa on the wall.

"Me," Dawn Summers said, looking up with tears forming in her eyes, "She wants me."

"…the Key…" whispered Alexis, looking over at Dawn. "They couldn't have…"

"They did," said Buffy, "Dawn is the Key."

"Dawnie?" asked Scott, "Buffy, what are you talking about?"

"The Key is the one thing that can open up a portal to Glory's home dimension," said Buffy. "I don't know how to tell you this Scott, but…"

"She's telling you I'm not real!" Dawn shouted, "She's telling you that some monks took this ball of energy, and made me, and then they created everyone's memories about me so that the Slayer would protect the Key!" The tears broke through and she sobbed out, "She's telling you I don't really exist…"

Dawn collapsed back down on the couch, and for a few moments the only sound in the room was her quiet sobbing. Buffy made her way over to her and sat next to her, holding her sister tightly.

The quiet lasted until one voice broke it. 

"Bullshit," Scott Summers said. He walked over to where his cousins sat and knelt down. He reached out and gently lifted Dawn's face until she was looking into his own. 

"Dawnie," he said quietly, "Remember that promise I made you two at the beach?"

"But you didn't really make it," she whispered.

"Bullshit," he said again, "I remember making it, therefore I made it. I don't care if you were born fifteen years, or five minutes ago. I remember seeing you right after that, and as far as I'm concerned that seals it. You're my cousin, Dawnie, and I love you more than I can say."

"But, Scotty," she started.

"No buts, if the memories that you and I share," he looked over at Buffy, who's own eyes were none too dry, "and that the three of us have were created for us, great! Someone did me a helluva favor by brining you into my life. And any memories we make from this point forward, they're real. And they're ours. So what if you're the Key, a big ball of energy made human? Just think about it, your sister's the Slayer, the one girl in the world that can fight demons and vampires. And let's not forget your cousin the mutant, running around in leather shooting beams out of his eyes," He leaned forward and kissed Dawn gently on the forehead. "Welcome to the family."

By the time he had finished, Dawn's tears had started to dry and she actually smiled a bit. Then another thought occurred to her.

"But what about Glory?" she asked.

Scott stood and held out his hand to Buffy, who took it and rose to her own feet.

"Summers stand by their family," he said. 

"And their families stand by them," said Xander, walking over and taking Buffy's other hand. "I've thought of you two as my family for so long, what else can I do." He grinned at Dawn.

"That goes for me too," said Willow firmly, walking over and putting her arm on Dawn's shoulder.

"And me," added Tara as she joined them, without a trace of her normal hesitation.

Anya walked over and put her arm through Xanders. 

"I know I don't really show it," she said quietly, "But I would be lost without any of you." 

"I trust you know how I feel, Dawn," said Giles, standing behind Buffy.

"Yeah, don't worry," smiled Dawn, "No need of emotional display from the stuffy Englishman."

"There's more," said Professor Xavier, as he, Jean, Ororo, Remy, and Logan came over and stood by Scott. "You see, Dawn, the Summers now have more than one side to this extended family." He looked her in the eyes. "It would seem that you've now inherited all of us, including another stuffy Englishman."

"But the Cajun makes up for it, non?" asked Remy.

"The X-Men stand by each other," said Ororo. "And so their family becomes ours."

"Though I don't really claim Slim," muttered Logan, although he was smiling.

Dawn was startled as Pangor jumped into her lap, all eighteen pounds of him, and maowed at her. He immediately made himself comfortable and started to purr, looking at her as though to say "Well, aren't you going to scratch behind my ears?" Dawn, of course, proceeded to do just that, thereby cementing the relationship as far as Pangor was concerned. He closed his eyes and rumbled.

"And just to top it all off," came Alexis' voice, "This huge mucking family has a few…close friends they can call on." She gestured around the room to the remaining two teams, hers and Angel's. "With a crew like this, I think we can give anyone, even Glory, a good run for the money." She reached out and gave Spike a quick punch on the arm, just to let him know that he was included in on her statement. The vampire simply nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself. 

"Dawn," said Angel, "You know I…"

"I know," said Dawn, smiling. She looked over at the rest of Angel's crew, and grinned. "Doesn't talk much about his feelings, does he?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes, and sighed, while Gunn just let out a short laugh.

"You know it," he said.

"I'm okay now guys," Dawn said. "And thanks," she looked over to Alexis, who returned her smile, and then she gave Pangor a hug, "All of you. But you better get going."

"Alright then," Scott wrapped up, "Let's roll…"

Pangor sat up at that, and reached out one paw, which he ran gently across Dawn's cheek. He then immediately jumped to the floor and ran to his mistresses' side.

The assembled crew of mutants, vampires, investigators, witches, slayers, watchers and trusted companions (both two legged and four) began making their final preparations.


	5. Confrontations and Collapses

 V  Confrontations and Collapses 

As evening officially turned into night, three figures made their way through the woods north of Sunnydale. All three walked quietly, and when they spoke, they kept their voices low. All three also wore trenchcoats.

"We should be gettin' close, mes amis," said Remy.

"About another hundred yards or so," confirmed Nicholas.

Spike just walked behind the others, still somewhat disgusted with the idea that the chip that had been put into his head seemed to be part of a larger agenda. He'd never cared for government-supported genocide, and liked it even less when he was supposed to be part of it.

Remy suddenly stopped walking and held up his hand.

"Shhh…" he intoned, "We got company," he whispered. 

All three faded quickly into the bushes at that, Nicholas thinking directly to the other three groups through the link that had been setup by Professor Xavier. One member of each group had been designated as a communicator. Nicholas watched what occurred next and updated Jean, Spencer and Alexis.

************

A bit west, Alexis received the information and updated the rest of her crew. 

"Looks like there might be guards patrolling the area around the air-intake," she said. "Right now they've just barely missed being discovered by a female vampire."

"They okay?" asked Willow.

"They're fine…" started Alexis, "Oh no."

"Oh no, what?" asked Giles.

"She found Remy, though he's signled the others to stay hidden. She's got him by the lapel, and… oh…my…well, that's **one **way of doing it," Alexis replied with some admiration in her voice.

"Doing **what**?" asked Xander, exasperated.

************

"Remy's doing **what**?" asked Gunn incredulously.

"He's seducing her," repeated Spencer.

"The man **is** a charmer," said Ororo, smiling, "Is it working?"

************

"That's the scary part," continued Jean, "It's actually working."

"Only the Cajun," snickered Logan.

"I don't believe it," said Scott.

"I dunno, Scott," said Buffy, "He's awfully cute."

"What?" replied her cousin.

"Oh, yeah," said Jean, picking up on what Buffy was doing, "I mean, that tousled hair, those eyes, that grin, the body, it takes a girl's breath away."

"Oh, really?" said Scott, "When the opportunity next presents itself, remind me to drop a truck on him."

"Scott," said Jean.

"A **big** truck," said Scott.

"Scott!" said Buffy.

"A **really** big truck," said Scott.

**"SCOTT!"** yelled Jean and Buffy.

"I know!" replied Scott, reaching up to his visor and sending a small beam of force into the trees just above him. The vampire that had been lurking there fell to the ground and was quickly reduced to its component parts courtesy of Mr. Pointy.

"Just had to keep you guessing," smiled Scott.

************

Nicholas and Spike, meanwhile, and edged around the whole affair and gotten a look at their target. 

"I see three vamps guardin' the place," murmured Spike quietly.

"Looks to me like they thought this the least likely access," whispered Nicholas, pulling his pistols out.

"Bullets don't do much against my kind," Spike reminded him.

"Head-shots with hollow points do," replied Nicholas. Then he stood and proved his point.

************

Remy heard the three pistol shots and knew that this would break whatever seductive mood he'd established. The following shout of "Yo, Remy! We're clear," from Nicholas cemented the point firmly. As the vampire regained her wits and started shifting into her demon form, he pushed her into the jagged branch that he'd spent the last five minutes maneuvering her in front of. As the wood pierced her heart, she collapsed into dust.

"Sorry, petite'" he said, "But Tante Matte warned me about your kind." He ran quickly to join the other two.

************

Ororo, Spencer, and Gunn had located the emergency exit, hidden in the side of the hill. Remarkably, it was completely unguarded.

"I don't like this," muttered Gunn.

"That makes two of us," said Ororo, as she plied her skill on the locking mechanism.

"I did take us twenty minutes just to find the damn lock," said Spencer, "Could be they thought we never would find this way in."

"You really think that?" asked Gunn.

"Hell no!" said Spencer, "But it sounds nice."

Ororo quietly finished her work, and the three of them pulled the door open. There wasn't the expected creak of old hinges, but nonetheless, they still felt wary. Ororo looked down the opened passageway, noticing how dark it was.

"We'll have to go slowly, and probably feel our way in," she said quietly. She had told very few people about her claustrophobia, and wasn't about to let it endanger Hank and Rogue. 

"Not really," commented Spencer, pulling some goggles from his backpack. "Voila!"

"Night glasses!" exclaimed Gunn. "Good thinking."

"Gadgets are us," grinned Spencer, handing the goggles out. Ororo let a small sigh of relief out. At least she'd be able to see.

The trio started down the passageway.

************

Alexis watched the mouth of the cave that the lead group had entered. Another minute or so and they'd follow. She had a bad feeling about this whole thing. Something told her that this was just going way to smoothly. She held her voice and waited the two minutes that had been agreed on, then gestured to the others that they should proceed to the cave mouth.

So why did this still feel like a setup?

************

The demon looked on as the second group entered the cave.

"Oh, my Magnificence, should we not take them now?" he asked.

"Don't be stupid," Glory replied, "I'm hardly dressed for an outdoor adventure."

"But, Most Splendiferous," the demon countered, "One of them may know who the key is."

"Look, scabby," Glory stated flatly, "Chances are **most** of them know who the key is, and after Doctor Essex and his bodyguards get finished messing up their faces, they'll be a lot more likely to tell me. Holy Mother of Me, do I have to think of everything?"

"As always," the demon paused a moment, thinking, then continued, "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious One, you're strategy is brilliant!"

Glory said nothing, she just lowered her head and massaged the bridge of her nose.

************

Doctor Nathaniel Essex looked at the monitors in front of him as he rolled up his sleeve. So far, everything had gone almost exactly as planned. The secondary group entering the caves was unexpected, but had the benefit of allowing him to pull some of the resources he had placed at the ventilation shaft and the emergency exit. Glorificus, of course, had done nothing, as he'd expected. The true reward there would come after the combined forces of Xavier and the Slayer had failed in his lab.

He finished rolling up his sleeve, and picked up the syringe he'd prepared earlier. This was the last injection. He turned and looked at himself in the full-length mirror he'd earlier used to elucidate his point to McCoy. His skin was now completely devoid of any color, simply the dead white of a pure albino. His hair had shifted to an almost metallic blue black, and the red diamond on his forehead had come forth with a vengeance, now standing out in it's blood-colored magnificence against the pale tone of his skin.

"…carpe diem, life without end…" he whispered as he plunged the needle into his arm.

The pain was incredible, fire with acid. Torture that could not even begin to be imagined. For an unknown amount of time he lay writhing on the floor of the lab, screaming in ecstasy, laughing in pain. And then, suddenly, it was gone. He was whole again. Without a hint of concern, he rose to his feet and studied himself in the mirror again. Deciding that he needed a slightly more defined jaw line, he was satisfied to see it become so. His eyes were now a solid black mass, allowing no light to escape. He walked over to the computer console, and opened the casing. Then he withdrew a single chip from the interior workings of the system. He simply stared at it for a brief time, then a small pocket opened up in his chest, where he deposited the chip.

"Time for the grand finale," he muttered. With the press of a button, he prepared to eliminate the specimens that were no longer of use to him.

************

Dawn Summers looked up from the book she was supposed to be studying for the umpteenth time in the last half-hour, and looked at the Professor again. 

"How does he do it," she thought, "He looks so unconcerned about it all."

"I assure you, Dawn," said the Professor, "I'm just as worried as you are." He turned his chair towards her and smiled, "But I do have a bit more experience in hiding the fact," he confessed.

Dawn lowered her eyes and asked, "Is it that obvious? My being worried, I mean."

"Well," said Xavier, "I am psychic you know." He smiled at her.

"Professor," she started, "I…can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"I hate to take your time…"

"Dawn," Xavier soothed, "I have over thirty students, right about your age, at my school. And I pride myself on being able to make time for each and every one of them when it's important." He wheeled his chair over to her side and took her hand, "How could I possibly do any less for someone who could very well be my own niece?"

Dawn smiled at the familial reference, and prepared herself for the answer she was dreading.

"Professor, am I real?"

"I beg your pardon?" Xavier asked.

"I mean," Dawn hesitated a moment, "You're a telepath, and you should be able to know if I'm real, right?"

"Dawn, if you're asking me to read your mind…"

"No, not that. I just…" she searched for the right way of saying it, "I just want to know if there's this big hole, where I oughta be. Does that make any sense?"

"More than you know," Xavier chuckled. "Let me tell you a little story. About ten years ago, I found a young man in the Midwest. He'd made his way cross-country, and was playing guitar for spare change. This young man had a terrible secret, and when I told him that I wanted to help him, he asked me, 'Am I real?' You see, he'd had his eyes taped shut for over two months, ever since he accidentally destroyed a wall at his high-school prom. He'd become convinced that his entire life was either a dream, or that he'd been sent to Hell for some unknown trespass."

"Scotty?" asked Dawn.

"Exactly," confirmed Xavier. "You see, Dawn, most people your age are trying to find the truth about themselves. And most of them start off that search with the simple question 'Am I real?'" he paused a moment, "Now then, most of them don't have to deal with the reality of reading minds, or having deadly beams of force come from their eyes, or knowing that they were once simply a ball of energy. But I'm convinced that the search is the same, nonetheless." He opened up his arms, invitingly, and Dawn crawled up into his lap without any hesitation. "But as to your question, yes. Dawn Summers, you are very real. And you are very loved."

And the fifteen-year-old girl, who in all reality started her life as a supernatural force, sat there, being held by the man whom she already considered a favored uncle. And the man of untold age and power, who had already seen both the best and the worst that the human race had to offer, held the newest addition to his family as though she were the greatest treasure ever discovered. And the two of them commiserated for some time on the singular wish to be like everyone else.

************

Remy LeBeau had just finished releasing the last catch on the grill. 

"Okay," he whispered, "We in."

"So open the damn thing already," muttered Nicholas, pressing himself against the wall of the shaft. "It's tight in here."

Remy popped the grill out, holding on with his fingertips so that it wouldn't fall to the floor. Slowly, the three lowered themselves out of the opening into the atmosphere control center of the Initiative.

"Izit just me," asked Spike quietly, "Or did we just get in here way to easy?"

"It's not just you," confirmed Nicholas.

"Long time no see, LeBeau," came a rough voice from behind them.

"Creed!" hissed Remy, seeing Sabretooth standing in the corner. He'd been so quiet and still, that none of the three had detected him.

Nicholas was already pulling his weapons when Spike said "Anyone else in here?"

"Essex saw the three of you coming, thought I could handle it," Creed commented grinning. 

Remy pulled a card from one of his pockets, and by the time it was withdrawn he'd already charged it to full capacity. 

"We not so easy to take, m'sieu 'Tooth," he commented.

"You two go after Essex," said Spike, "Leave Shaggy here to me."

And with that he threw himself onto Creed. Nicholas saw the card in Remy's hand and pointed to the door into the main complex. Remy took the hint and flung the card.

As the door exploded outward, Creed said: "Second time today I've had to tell someone I'm not a demon," as he flipped Spike over his shoulder.

Spike spun himself around in mid-air and landed on his feet.

"Yeah, but anyone tell you that this chip in my head does squat if I'm beatin' up on a mutant?" he retorted, launching a kick into Creed's side.

Creed spun around and crouched into an attack position, regarding the vampire for the first time as a possible threat. A very dangerous threat, he realized.

"And that means this town's gonna see an absolutely glorious kicking of your ass," Spike informed his opponent, falling into a crouch of his own.

Neither of them noticed as Nick and Remy exited through the remains of the door into the main lab.

************

Gunn had taken point position as the three of them made their way down the passage. So it was only natural that he would be the one to be hit by the burst of sonic energy aimed at them.

Grey Crow stepped out from the curve behind which he'd been waiting, pointing the device he'd constructed at Spencer and Ororo.

"Behind me!" shouted Spencer, pulling a device of his own from his pack.

The two men activated their weapons at the same time. And absolutely nothing happened.

"Damn!" they both said simultaneously.

Ororo focused her ability, but they were too deep into the earth for her to pull the lightning down easily. Crow, meanwhile, had assembled a second device from the components in his belt, while Spencer had done the same with parts from his pack.

Once again, the two weapons canceled each other out.

"Shit!" both men shouted, and then they made eye contact for the first time. Each silently acknowledged the others skill. Then the moment passed, both men reaching for new components.

They both took slightly longer this time, adding another piece or two in order to ensure success. Simultaneously they activated their newly created weapons.

Simultaneously, both devices shattered into their component pieces.

"Son of a BITCH!" the two builders harmonized, somewhat awed.

Grey Crow once again grabbed some components from his pouches, Spencer however, simply reached into his pack, drew back his arm, and threw.

As the man sometimes called Scalphunter raised his newest creation, he had just enough time to realize what had happened before the fastball struck him in the forehead.

"YES!" shouted Spencer as Crow fell to the ground unconscious.

As Ororo revived Gunn, Spencer walked over and retrieved his lucky charm. Tossing the ball up in the air and catching it as he returned to his companions, he commented: 

"Signed by Big Mac, no less."

************

Jean had been in a few battles in her time, but nothing to compare to this. 

They were surrounded by demons. All kinds of demons. The vampires she could identify easily enough, but there were huge horned things with lumpy green skin, and a few that looked kind of like fish. And a couple that she could hardly bear to look at, they were so alien to her senses.

She had already sent the call to Alexis to bring the others, and knew they'd arrive in moments, but the battle raged on. 

Buffy had just slain her fifth vampire of the night, while Angel was going hand-to-hand with one of the horned monstrosities. Scott simply blasted everything in sight with everything he had, but they seemed to keep coming. Logan, on the other hand, was doing remarkably well with his claws. It seemed that beheading worked on pretty much anything. Jean was having a hard time, though. She had staked a couple of vampires with her telekinesis, and thrown a few demons into the wall as hard as she could, but the strain was starting to take its toll. This wasn't the kind of fight she'd been trained for, and she knew it. In the back of her mind, she worried about Scott. His optic blasts were a result of his body's processing of sunlight. They'd never determined what the limits of his power would be after dark, and she was desperately afraid that they'd find out tonight.

"I wish I was stronger," she thought to herself.

_And somewhere, deep in her mind, a spark awakened_.

That's when the nausea hit. 

Jean doubled over, fighting not to be sick as the dizziness consumed her. She was barely able to discern that the others were having the same problem. Remembering Cordelia's description of the fight at the Hyperion, she managed to catch a glance of a woman standing at the mouth of an opening several meters in front of them. If this woman could cause this sort of…wait, there might be one…

**_"Alexis, you better come a-running girl,"_** she thought.

************

**_"Alexis, you better come a-running girl,"_** she heard.

Alexis caught the gist of Jean's message and turned to the others.

"Gang, when we get there, be ready to fight," she said. She turned towards the two witches. "Will, Tara, as soon as we round that corner, you've got to clear me a way through to the other side."

"What's happening?" asked Xander.

"Look's like the Dizzy Bitch from LA has struck again," Alexis commented.

"Give her one for me," muttered Cordelia as the group rounded the corner, catching up to their comrades.

Immediately, all of them felt the effects of Vertigo's powers. All save one. Fighting the feeling for just a few moments, Willow and Tara linked hands, and uttered the word: "Passagae'"

Suddenly, demons were thrown in all directions, leaving a clear path from their location to the other end of the chamber. Pangor wasted no time, and began running through the pathway, with Alexis following behind him.

Vertigo saw the young woman running towards her, and focused all of her power on the oncoming threat. She was rather surprised when it had no affect whatsoever.

Alexis ran directly up to the mutant and stopped, looking at her with blind eyes.

"Cordelia sends her love," she said, launching a left hook towards her opponents chin.

Vertigo was never particularly good at physical combat, and in fact, had never been punched in her life. Anyone who knew this would not have been surprised that a single blow to the chin would knock her out. Alexis on the other hand, was expecting more of a struggle.

"Better get to the gym, girlfriend," she muttered. She turned to go back towards the battle when she heard Logan scream out in pain.

"**EVERYONE! GET BACK**!" yelled Jean, putting every ounce of energy she had into the warning.

Suddenly, in the middle of the battle, the true face of rage reared its head. Logan was gone. In his place was the man known only as Wolverine. No humanity could be seen in those eyes. Even the hardest of the demons sensed the change in him. And then all hell broke loose.

Xander Harris was, in his soul, a strong man. He saw what was happening, and his mind processed the information into pieces that he could handle. His favorite ladies were another matter. He tried his best to shield Anya, Willow, and Tara from the sight before them. Tara pressed her face into his chest as tightly as she could, desperately trying to forget the few brief images she'd seen. Willow stared on in open-mouthed horror. And Anya tried very hard not to think about the things she had done in her former life as a vengeance demon. Xander wrapped them all to him, pressing them deeper into the crevice he had found.

Some of the demons tried to escape the fury that they had caused, but they'd planned the ambush too well for their own good. Their opponents blocked the exits from this chamber, and in the time it took to turn and try another route, they rapidly found themselves cut down.

Buffy had seen some horrific fights in her time as the Slayer, and Angel had done some horrible deeds when he was known as Angelus, but neither had ever seen anything like this. 

Wolverine was everywhere, and he showed absolutely no mercy to those in his way. His claws flashed in the light, and every time they flashed, a demon fell in pieces. Where the caverns had been filled with shouts and blows, now there were only screams. And blood.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, it was over. The demons all lay on the floor in pieces, and the ground could not be seen for the blood. And in the middle of it all, stood Logan, panting, recovering his humanity. As the rest of the gang started to come forward he looked up at them. His mutant healing factor already beginning to eradicate the multiple wounds he'd suffered in the last few minutes.

"Fifteen years," he said, "Fifteen years of psycho-training, of hypnotism, of drug-therapy. Fifteen years of **prayin'**," he looked around him. "An' I cut 'em all to pieces without a thought."

He stood up and looked at Scott.

"Nothin' changes, Slim," he continued. "I thought I'd learned to control myself. Guess I was wrong. An' y'want to know somethin' funny?"

The silence in the cave was deafening for a moment, and then shattered with the metal-on-metal shhhnkt of Logan's claws withdrawing into his arms.

"I'm glad," he said flatly.

************

As Remy and Nicholas came through the doorway, they both instinctively dropped and rolled away in opposite directions. Where they were standing a second before, two bone Shuriken had imbedded themselves into the floor. 

Nicholas rolled to his feet directly in front of one of the Plexiglas cells, and saw their assailant perched on top of one of the massive computer consoles, his arm held behind him in preparation for another throw.

Remy on the other hand, ended up at the feet of an immense mountain of a man. The giant simply grunted, and reached to pick the Cajun up. LeBeau had other ideas, however, and sprang backwards, away from his opponent, reaching for another card as he did.

Nicholas watched the man in the satin jacket closely. Spencer had taught him a long time ago how to watch for the tell tale signs of an imminent pitch. So he waited, and when the slight flex of the muscles came, sprang out of the way of the deadly projectile. He felt it graze the back of his neck, and when he rolled to get back on his feet, saw that it had gone clear through the Plexiglas, leaving a large hole in it's wake, and almost imbedding itself in the skull of the young woman who lay on the floor inside. As he came to his feet, he drew his pistols and started firing in his assailants direction, forcing the mutant to dive off of his perch for cover.

Remy had thrown three cards at his opponent so far, and it seems that they did nothing more than make him aggravated. Time for a change in tactics, he thought.

Rogue, meanwhile, had started to revive due to the air coming into her cell. She groggily looked around, assessing her situation. Somehow, she could tell that she still had the powers of the X'noxx (K'thon, she said to herself, his name was K'thon). As the air continued to flow in through the hole in her cell, her head cleared quickly, and she could see that Remy was in trouble. She took one last look at K'thon.

"Y'haven't died in vain, sugah," she said. And then she hit the fractured wall of her cell with all her strength.

Nicholas managed to cover his face with his arm as the fragments of Plexiglas flew outward. As he looked towards the source of the explosion, he saw the young woman he'd noticed a little earlier come literally flying out of her cell, almost at supersonic speeds, headed directly at the giant that was facing Remy. As she impacted, she carried them both towards the far wall of the room, not slowing down in the slightest.

"I suspect that's Rogue," he murmured. He then spun and fired another round at his own opponent, seeing a flash of the satin jacket between two consoles.

The force of their combined mass left a huge crater in the cement of the wall, but the giant simply growled and drug his way back to his feet. 

"That's for attackin' the school," Rogue coolly informed him, and then launched a full roundhouse right to his chin. The giant flew up into the celing, and when he came back down, she followed up with a haymaker left. The massive hulk stayed down after that.

"And that's for knockin' me out," she finished.

"Chere, you been workin' out?" Remy asked as he came over to her. "An' when you learn to fly?"

"Been a busy couple a' days, swamp rat," she replied. Then she turned to another cell and began pouding on the Plexiglas. 

"Gimme a hand here, Cajun," she said, "Believe it or not, this one's McCoy!"

Remy stared at the large, blue furred man on the floor, unbelieving.

"You lost it, chere?" he asked.

"Nope, Essex did somethin' to 'im," she replied as the wall gave way under her attack, releasing the gas trapped inside. Remy followed her into the cell to help get Hank into the cleaner air.

Nicholas had just dodged another Shuriken, and he noticed blood running down his attackers arm. That's when it struck him, the boy must be making them from his own bone structure. He purposefully gave his opponent another opening, and this time saw that the boy was in pain, and his throw was off. Another feint, and he didn't even have to dodge the projectile.

He maneuvered his way through the complex, every so often leaving an opening that he knew his opponent would take. Each throw was more erratic than the last. Finally, the young mutant screamed and collapsed. As Nicholas approached him, he heard him whimpering.

"…can't make…any more…please…no more…" the young man looked at him, his face a mask of pain.

Nicholas pulled some handcuffs from one of his pockets. He cuffed his assailant, and then helped him into a sitting position.

"No more," he agreed. "Just tell me where Essex is."

Nicholas felt a cold hand on his neck, and then was lifted off his feet and held in place with a steel grip. He grabbed the hand with both of his, trying in vain to ease the pressure.

"Looking for me, detective?" said Essex.

"Nick!" shouted Remy. He had no idea where Essex had come from, but it was obvious that he'd done some serious work to himself. He drew a card and started charging it. Arclight stepped up behind Essex, preparing to engage the Cajun.

Right then the farthest wall exploded inwards, driven by a beam of scarlet force. As the combined X-Men, Angel Investigations, and Sunnydale irregulars came into the room, Essex stepped back, making sure that all could see the predicament he held one of their own in. 

"Unless you want me to kill him, I'd advise you all to stand back," he said.

Then another opening appeared in the wall next to the cell Rogue had been held in. Spencer quickly ran into the room, drawing a pistol of his own and aiming it at Essex.

"That's my brother, asshole," he said, "You got one chance."

"Un-evolved imbecile," Essex muttered, "You have no chance at all."

"…head…" gasped Nicholas.

"Yeah, I know," Spencer replied, firing, "Go for the head-shot."

The bullet found it's mark, directly to the left of the red diamond on Essex' forehead. Everyone was surprised, however, when Essex turned and looked at them, the hole still visible. There was no blood from the wound at all.

"Now that we've gotten that little show of bravado out of the way," he said smoothly, "I repeat, I will kill this insect without any hesitation." The hole in his head simply closed up at this point.

"Okay, I made that shot, right?" Spencer whispered to Remy, who nodded in turn, unable to speak.

"What have you done?" asked Scott.

"Hear me well, X-Men. I bear you no ill-will at this point. However, my work must be completed. I will see the final result of our evolution. I warn you now, do not interfere with me again." 

"What have you done to Hank?" demanded Jean.

"Doctor McCoy is quite well, my dear," Essex said, pointing with his free hand to Hank, as Rogue helped him sit up. "In fact, I'd say he's in better shape than ever."

Jean and Alexis ran over to them. 

"Oh, God, Hank…" Jean whispered. "What did he do to you?" She ran over and began checking his vital signs. Pangor rubbed up against Hank's leg.

"I've encouraged his evolution," Essex answered, "It pained me to see such potential untapped." He turned and glared at the gathered assembly. "My work here is finished." And with that he simply threw Nicholas into the gathered assembly. 

"Ms. Sontag, if you please," he said.

Arclight smiled at him, and then laced her hands together over her head. Bringing them down hard, the entire installation shook when her hands impacted the floor.

Smoke was forming around Essex' feet. It quickly snaked out and surrounded both him and Arclight, billowing up to cover them both. 

"That was a precise blow," Essex said, "In exactly three seconds, this entire installation, and the cave structure it was built in, will begin to collapse."

As if punctuating his point, a large section of the ceiling fell in, separating them again into two groups. The Sunnydale and Los Angeles crew were on one side with Scott, Nick, and Logan. And Remy, Rogue, Ororo, Alexis, Pangor, Jean, Hank, Spencer and Gunn were on the other. Then the computer systems burst into flames.

************

It had been a long time since Victor Creed had a fight this good. He was actually enjoying himself. He managed to grab a hold of Spike's hair and flung him into the wall.

Spike rolled to his feet, game face on. Creed was good. He hadn't had this much fun in, well, Hell, long before he even heard of Sunnydale, that was for sure.

Both combatants circled each other. Both were beaten, bloody, tired, and grinning like lunatics. 

"Yer good, blondie," said Creed.

"Not so bad y'self, shaggy," replied Spike.

About then a loud rumbled carried through the room, followed by a tremor.

"Uh oh," Creed said, "Arclight's bringin' down the house." He looked at Spike.

"Look," he said, "This ain't usually my style, but this whole damn place is about to come down and I don't want to be under it." With that he took off and started climbing up the ventilation shaft. "Thanks for the fun!" he hollered over his shoulder.

"Okay, something big enough to get him to run, I think I'd better pay attention," Spike said. He started into the main chamber to see about the others. Then the roof started coming in at the doorway, and he decided he'd better take the vent himself.

************

The smoke dissipated, and Essex and Arclight were gone. Quickly looking around, Remy realized that the Giant and the Shuriken thrower had vanished as well. He shouted over the rubble to Scott.

"We got to get outta here!"

"Jean, how's Hank?" Scott yelled. 

"…Alive…" was all that Jean could answer. Rogue and Alexis held him up between the two of them, and he was starting to get his feet under him, but walking was difficult. The shock had obviously not worn off.

"Take the emergency exit," Scott shouted to the others behind the rubble, "We'll meet in front of the cave enterance.

"Understood!" Jean replied, as Remy and Gunn came over to help with Hank.

"Nicholas, will you survive?" shouted Alexis.

"Ask me when you fire me," he returned, joining the others in their retreat.

Spencer immediately grabbed the small cot from Rogue's cell, and in moments had it turned into a functional stretcher. Gunn grabbed the front, while Spencer and Remy grabbed the back.

"Get Hank on here," Gunn shouted, "And let's rip!"

Jean soothed Hank onto the makeshift gurney, and the three men started running up the corridor. Jean took one last look around the place, wishing that they had made it in early enough to save the demons Essex had abducted. They almost looked like they were sleeping. Suppressing a shudder, she followed the stretcher crew out, trailed closely by Ororo, Alexis and Rogue. Another rumble, and then the last of the computer banks exploded.

Adam understood what was happening, but had been unable to say a word throughout. He had been conserving his strength, waiting for this moment. As the main chamber started to collapse, he marshaled his last remaining effort into one arm, pulling it free from the wall. He then reached to the side of his head, triggering the mechanism that caused a small panel to slide to one side.

"Come to me, Death," he said, pulling the small battery that kept his mental processes active in the event of system failure. This time, it would be final. It almost surprised him to realize that was all he wanted now.

************

They could see the opening ahead, and redoubled their efforts to carry Hank out of there before they all became pancakes. The small tunnel that had been set up as an emergency exit was not as solid as could be hoped, and was already starting to collapse around them. 

Suddenly, part of the ceiling broke loose, and on it's way to the floor, it impacted Alexis directly behind the left ear.

"Ah got 'er!" shouted Rogue, stopping to help Alexis to her feet, "Keep goin'!" Storm, however, hesitated. She turned to make sure that Rogue and Alexis were alright, and that's when trouble happened. 

The entire ceiling started collapsing in, and they were too far from the exit to make it. Jean looked at the three men trying to get Hank to the opening, and focused her mind.

_And the little spark grew, slightly._

It was no use, she couldn't shield them all from the rocks.

_And the spark exploded._

And then she was pushing them, and herself, out of the passageway into the night. It was done so quickly that none of them even had a chance to realize what had happened. Jean turned around in time to see the entire passage collapse onto itself.

When the dust cleared, nothing but rock could be seen.

"ROGUE!" she screamed, "STORM!"

"Alexis…," whispered Spencer.

************

They weren't going to make it.

Buffy Summers realized that this was it, they were going to die. She wanted to tell everyone how sorry she was for dragging them into her life, for ruining theirs.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Buffster," Xander said through his panting as he ran beside her. It was as though he had read her mind.

Then the opening to the caves was upon them, and the entire group pushed themselves to clear it before the entire structure came down. Logan and Nicholas were the last out, literally throwing themselves out of the mouth of the cave as the rocks fell around them.

As the group fell to the ground, exhausted, Scott did a quick head count and was relieved that everyone had made it.

Then a new voice was heard.

"'Scuse me, but if you're all finished panting like dogs, I really need to get some answers here."

Buffy looked up, unbelieving, at the source of the sound.

"Glory…"


	6. Gods and Mutants

 VI  Gods and Mutants 

"Okay," the blonde bombshell said, "I've been **very** patient here." She reached down and grabbed the person closest to her by the collar, lifting Scott off of his feet.

"I think it's time I got some answers," Glory said, pulling him to her face, "Do you know what the question is?"

"That would be 'Why Shouldn't I Threaten Mutants?' Alex," Scott muttered, triggering a hidden button in his right glove, opening his visor as wide as it would allow.

The beam of force struck Glory directly in the chest, sending her flying backwards through the woods. Several trees were felled in the path of her decent. Scott closed the visor and shouted out: "Everyone, on guard!"

Glory stood up amidst the fallen trees. 

"That's it," she growled, "Now I'm pissed off."

Before anyone could make a move, she was back among them again, delivering a blow to Scott that sent him flailing off to the side. He could tell that he only had another two or three blasts in him at full strength, and then his power would start dropping. 

"All I want is my Key!" Glory was shouting, "Why do you all insist on denying me that?"

The demons that served her had started closing in on the perimeter, not unnoticed by Nicholas and Xander.

"Hell bitch is way outta our league," said Xander, "What say we keep the scab-street boys busy?"

"I'm with you," Nicholas replied, tapping Giles on the shoulder and pointing out the new arrivals.

************

Remy stood at the mouth of the passageway, now filled in with fallen rocks.

"Chere, hang on," he whispered, "We get you outta there."

Jean meanwhile was trying to get a status on everyone else. Nicholas informed her of Glory's presence when they exited the cave's mouth, and Alexis let her know that she, Rogue and Ororo were all still alive.

"**_Ororo's out for the moment_**," she heard in her mind, "**_I don't know if she's injured or not, but she's alive_**."

"**_How's Rogue handling the weight?_**" she thought back.

"**_She says she's fine, be able to hold on for quite a while. Look, Jean, the air is good. I'd say we've got a couple of hours before panic time. You'd better go help the others._**" Alexis sent. She felt Pangor jump into her arms. "**_Go! And take Remy with you. Glory's bad news._**"

Jean hesitated. Ororo was like a sister to her, and Rogue….

In her mind, she saw what Nicholas saw, and reached a decision.

"Remy!" she shouted. "There's nothing we can do here now, the others need us!"

"But…"

"No, Rogue and the others are fine for the moment, and if Glory isn't stopped, we're all dead," she took off running towards the front of the caves.

Remy paused for a moment, as Jean instructed Gunn and Spencer on basic techniques to look after Hank, and told Spencer to keep his link with her open.

"We'll be back, Chere," he promised.

************

"You really think we got that much air?" Rogue asked.

"I may have hedged a bit," admitted Alexis, "But we've got a little while yet. You sure you can handle the weight?"

"Ah'm good, for now," Rogue didn't mention the fact that she was starting to feel the strain. "How's 'Ro?"

"Pulse is good, she's breathing," Alexis replied, "Good thing I'm used to working in the dark."

Rogue smiled at that, not that anyone could see it.

Alexis felt the smile however, and it warmed her slightly. She hadn't had the heart to tell Rogue that while Ororo seemed to be knocked unconscious, her eyes were still open. Alexis wasn't exactly an expert, but she had seen catatonia before. She leaned over and whispered into Ororo's ear, so quietly that Rogue wouldn't hear:

"Whatever's going on in there, you can handle it. We need you out here…"

************

Ororo Munro was six years old, and she had been born in New York. But then her Mommy got a job that took them all back to the land Mommy grew up in. Africa. And she had spent the last four years of her life here. 

She didn't even remember New York, not really. And it didn't bother her at all. She liked it here. Because Mommy and Daddy were here, and they were happy, and they loved her. And they had a nice apartment too. It was high up…

_…no don't think about that…_

…and Ororo could sit on the balcony and watch the city. She loved to do that. Particularly when she could see the airplanes…

**_…No!_**_ Don't think about that…_

…taking off and landing. They always circled the city, and on clear days she would watch them while Daddy fixed lunch. Mommy was always working during the day, but at lunchtime every one would get together on the balcony. And then one day…

_…NO! Don't…**Think**…About…That…_

…Daddy was fixing lunch and Ororo saw something strange. One of the airplanes was flying funny. Instead of coming around the city in a nice big circle, it was kind of jumping up and down, and it was flying straight into the city. And then she noticed the smoke…

**_NO!! DON'T_**_ THINK ABOUT **THAT!**_

…coming from one of the engines.

"Daddy?" she called out.

"What is it honey?" her Daddy called back.

"Come and look at the airplane, I think there's something wrong with it."

Daddy came out on the balcony and looked where she was pointing. 

"Oh my God.." 

**_NO!!! DON'T EVER, EVER THINK ABOUT THAT! NEVER!_**__

…and then he was picking her up and running back into the house, shouting.

"N'Dare! We have to leave!"

Then Ororo's Mommy came into the front room, saying: "David, what is it?" And then her eyes got really large as she looked out the window, and she …

NONONONONONONONONONONONONONO

…said: "Oh, no. Ororo, honey, I love…"

And then there was this noise, this big noise. The whole building shook. And then they were all falling, and there was screaming, and fire, and then…

…and then it was dark. Ororo heard the sound of water dripping, somewhere. She was cold. And she hurt, all over. Why couldn't she see anything? 

"Mommy? Daddy? Where are you?" she called. 

No one answered. 

She tried to move, but her legs were trapped, so she reached out and tried to find something to pull herself out with. She had to feel around, because it was dark. And then she felt the hand.

"Mommy?"

The cold, unmoving hand.

"Mommy!"

************

Spike arrived at the cave's mouth just in time to catch Angel as Glory flung him to the side.

"Watch it, Peaches," he said, "This one plays for keeps."

"Know that from experience, Spike?" Angel asked.

"Matter of fact, I do. Permicidal over there damn near killed me, and that was just for jollies," he took on a more somber expression, "Look, I don't like you, you don't like me, fine. But this isn't about us, it's about Buffy, and it's about Dawn."

"And you're telling me this because?"

"Remember Constantinople?" Spike asked.

Angel thought for a moment: "The Gractor?"

Spike nodded.

"Could work," Angel muttered, "I'll go high, you go low,"

"…and I'll be in Scotland afore ye…" Spike snorted. 

As Glory tossed Logan the other direction, Scott hit her with another blast from his eyes. This was his fourth blast now, and the strength had dwindled. At this point, he simply knocked Glory on her back.

As she climbed back to her feet, Remy threw a fist full of charged cards at her, knocking her back down.

Angel shouted out, and he and Spike sprung into action.

Thunder rumbled as they made their move.

************

Nicholas had the unfortunate luck to be standing directly in Logan's path as he crashed through the brush. 

"You okay?" the Canadian asked, helping Nick back to his feet.

"Bitch, I think she broke a rib," Nicholas muttered holding his side. "Yeah, I'm fine." He stopped suddenly, looking up.

"Ah, Logan?" he asked.

"Yeah?"

"Where did the stars go?" he pointed up and Logan followed his arm.

Sure enough, where ten minutes ago the sky had been a panorama of points of light, there was nothing but black. Then a flash of light in the distance, and thunder rumbled.

"Uh oh," said Logan, "I think that's 'Ro."

************

**"MOTHER!"** Ororo shouted, sitting up. She looked around, trying to figure out where she was.

"Ororo, it's alright," soothed Alexis.

"No, the dark! I cannot be in the dark!" Ororo pleaded. Then suddenly there was light, as Ororo's body began to glow with electricity.

"I must be **free…**"

"Ororo!" shouted Rogue, "Keep it together, gal!"

**"I must be free!"** Ororo screamed.

"AND I SHALL BE FREE!"

************

 "Damn it, man!" Hank McCoy was shouting, "I'm fine I tell you,"

"And I'm not about to tell Jean I let you outta here without checking you out first." Gunn replied. "Do I look like an idiot to you?" Thunder rumbled again, much closer this time.

"Don't answer that," Spencer said as Hank opened his mouth, "Would you want to piss the redhead off?"

Hank thought for a moment, and then opened his mouth to reply, when he suddenly noticed something.

"Where's Ororo?" he asked.

"Trapped in the cave with Rogue and Alexis," Spencer told him.

"Oh my stars and garters," muttered Hank, realizing why his fur was starting to stand on end. He jumped up grabbed the startled Gunn and Spencer around their waists, effortlessly.

"We must get away from here!" he shouted, leaping into a small ravine and covering the other two with his bulk.

At that point a bolt of lightning split the night sky, drilling down into the mountainside above the caved in entrance. As the three men watched, it seemed to withdraw back into the clouds, carrying with it a joyful figure.

"**FREE**!" Ororo shouted on her way into the night. The sound was barely swallowed by the massive thunderbolt that accompanied it.

************

That was it, all he had. 

Scott Summers was exhausted, and he fell to his knees in the dirt. He wasn't sure, but it felt like his eyes were bleeding. And the last blast he shot hadn't fazed Glory in the slightest, it simply rocked her back a step or two.

It did, however, give Angel and Spike a chance to regroup. Despite their mutual dislike of each other, the two made a fearsome tag team. Every time Glory thought she had the drop on one of them, the other was instead coming at her from the other direction. They didn't speak. It was simply a rhythm built from years of knowing each other. 

Buffy, meanwhile, had pulled herself back to her feet after a less than successful attack. She looked up as Logan came over to her.

"You okay, kid?" he asked.

"I'll survive, assuming any of us do," she replied.

"We ain't dead yet," he growled, "And until we are, it ain't over," he turned towards the battle, waiting the next opening.

Angel and Spike had found themselves flanking Glory's sides, and took the opportunity to deliver a crushing double-roundhouse to her jaw. Glory flew backwards into the bushes, cursing.

When she stood, she held a rock in her right hand, preparing to hurl it at the first target available. Then the sound of gunshots rang out, six times, and the rock fragmented into dust.

"Fight fair, babe," muttered Nicholas, then he turned to face off more of her demonic lackeys, only to discover that they were running away.

"Great, bullets won't do dick against hell-broad herself," he said. Giles and Xander came up to him, out of breath.

"The scabbys are taking off," huffed Xander.

"Let's hope that they are getting an idea of the outcome," murmured Giles.

Meanwhile, Buffy and Logan had taken advantage of Glory's surprise when the rock shattered, both of them delivering every blow they could manage, attempting to weaken the god if at all possible.

Glory, however, had other ideas. She managed to grab Buffy's arm, and flung her towards her cousin, then turned and delivered a blow directly to Logan's forehead.

The blow only slightly staggered Logan, and seemed to have much more affect on Glory.

"Clang?" she said, "Who the fuck goes 'Clang' when you hit them?"

She still had the rather confused look on her face when something shot out of the hillside and carried her into the woods.

"That'd be Logan," the blur said, delivering a solid blow that sent Glory flying.

************

Alexis had felt around after the blast hit. She assumed from the sound that it had been lightning, but Pangor was still a bit blurry eyed. Slowly the vision she shared with him returned, and she could see the hole blasted through the rock that Ororo had created.

"Rogue," she called out, "You still with me?"

"Ah'm here gal, but I caint see anything. The lightning kinda blinded me."

"It'll pass," Alexis assured her. Then she noticed that the blast had weakened the cave's structure even further. The passage was going to collapse soon.

"Rogue, we have to get out of here, now," she said solemnly. 

"Soon as Ah can see, we can fly out," the mutant replied, "But if Ah let go this section, the whole thing comes down. We're gonna have one shot at this."

"Then we better get you seeing," Alexis said, making her way over to her companion. "Do you trust me?" she asked.

"Trust you?" Rogue returned, "What do ya mean? Ah, mean, sure, Ah trust ya well enough, but Ah don't…"

"Then hush," Alexis said, and she reached out and laid her hand against the young woman's face.

"ALEXIS!" Rogue shouted, "You gone loco, woman?" Then she stopped, and realized that the only thing she was drawing from Alexis was her ability to see through Pangor's eyes.

"What the hell…" she started.

"Just work with me here," Alexis whispered, straining, "I can't keep this level of concentration up for long. Pangor!" 

As she called his name, the Norwegian Forest jumped into his Mistresses' arms. Rogue took the hint, and in one swift move, grabbed the two of them, and flew out the same opening that Ororo had used earlier.

As they cleared the opening, the cave collapsed beneath them. Through Pangor's eyes, Rogue saw a huge lightning storm high up above.

"Ororo's lost it," she said.

"She'll be back," commented Alexis. "You feel up to using that strength of yours?" She pointed towards the battle on the ground.

"Consider me there, gal," Rogue said. She flew towards the hillside. Her own vision was returning as she dropped Alexis and Pangor down onto the hill, and then she took off towards the battle.

As she approached Glory she heard: "Who the fuck goes 'Clang' when you hit them?"

"That'd be Logan," she replied, laying in with everything she had.

************

Jean had run to Scott's side the instant he fell to his knees. She felt the rush of air behind her, and heard Rogue's remark to Glory, so she knew they still had a chance.

"Scott, are you alright?" she asked. 

"I'm out, Jean," he replied, shaking, "Nothing left…"

"Hush," she soothed, "Save your strength." In her mind, she desperately hoped that this wasn't an indication of things to come. She had telekinetically thrown huge chunks of earth and rock at Glory with little affect what so ever. And now it seemed the heaviest hitter they had was out for the count, except that no one really knew what Rogue was now capable of. She very well might be able to take on Glory, with what Essex had done to her.

Her hopes fell as a blurred shape buried itself into the ground not three feet in front of her.

"…oh, that hurt…" muttered Rogue, digging herself out. It was clear that even her newly enhanced strength and stamina were being tested. Jean once again found herself wishing she had more power….

_…and again, the spark deep inside her mind lit up…_

…so that she might be able to take on Glory directly. She ran over to help Rogue.

"Anyone else getting tired of this little game?" she heard from over her shoulder.

************

Alexis, meanwhile, was doing something she hated to do.

"Alright, Lady," she said, "You know how this works. Whatever it takes, I've got to get a message to the woman up there," she looked in Ororo's direction.

"If you can get the Hammer Wielder to get a message to his avatar, we need her now." She pulled one of her knives from its holster, and made a small slit in her palm.

"Freya, hear me, and do as I ask, please," she asked, letting the blood drip into the roots of the Primrose bush she'd found. She looked down at where Rogue had just landed, digging a huge ditch as she went. "Or we're all dead…"

************

Ororo was lost. She had gone from her worst nightmare into absolute bliss. She was one with the elements. All around her, the full force of her power had been let loose.

She spun in the wind, letting the forces of nature drift and dance around her, laughing. 

She was free, and she would never be held again.

"…aren't you forgetting something…" the storm said to her.

She stopped, uncertain what had just happened. Even when she was hailed as the protector of the small tribe in Africa she had adopted, the elements had never spoken to her directly.

"…Glorificus…" the thunder said, and this time she heard it clearly.

She looked down, and saw the terrible situation her teammates were in, and without a thought flung herself down, towards the earth, to assist them.

As she pulled out of the dive, just above the battle, she heard a woman she could only assume was Glorificus call out, "Anyone else getting tired of this little game?"

************

Glory was getting really tired of this.

"Anyone else getting tired of this little game?" she asked as she approached the one she'd just buried. "I know I am."

"Game?" she heard from above her, "You dare call this a game?" Looking up, Glory saw a newcomer to the battle, a dark skinned woman with pure white hair. Electricity danced around the newcomer, like a lover.

"Hey, I like the hair," she said, "But that's beside the point. Of course this is a game, I am a God after all…"

"Beware, for I too have been called 'Goddess' in my time. But the flagrant disregard for innocents you show declares your true nature," Ororo said. She pointed towards Glory, and the electricity that had been dancing around her focused into her finger. Energy flowed from her eyes, lighting up the night.

"**THIS IS NO GAME, GLORIFICUS!**" she declared, calling all the forces of nature to do her bidding.

Lighting struck, and the sheer force of the impact threw everyone in the area to the ground. The thunderbolt that followed was deafening, and for just a moment, it seemed that the entirety of the world consisted of sheer power, focused on one spot.

Where Glory had stood, there was a crater, and the ground around it was melted into a glass-like substance. 

Ororo fell to the ground, exhausted. She had never pulled that much power before. Over the heads of the assembly, the sky started clearing, stars showing through the clouds.

 Alexis had been coming down the hill as all this happened, so she was the first to Ororo's side. As she checked the African's vitals for the second time that night, she spoke to Hank and Jean, both of whom were rushing to check on their friend.

"She's alright," Alexis sighed, "Just wiped out." 

Hank looked at the damage the bolt had done. "I'm not surprised," he commented, "I don't think any of us knew that she could do that."

"Took me by surprise," said Jean.

They prepared to carry Ororo down to join the rest of the group when everyone around heard something that made their blood run cold.

"If that's the best you've got," said Glory, pulling her way out of the crater, "You'd better just give me what I want right now…" The look on her face was more than enough indication that things were about to get ugly.

Glory ran to the first person she saw, grabbing them by the throat and squeezing. 

As Jean Gray tried to breathe, Glory stated: "Now I start killing until you tell me what I want to know."

************

Jean Grey had seen many things since she'd come to Xavier's Academy, but this was the first time she had felt pure terror. They had all thrown everything they had at Glory, and it wasn't enough. Right now, it looked like they were all going to die, and she'd never even told Scott just how much she loved him.

_…and deep in her mind, something exploded…._

Suddenly, everything seemed different…

_…and the spark expanded, covering her entire essence, showing her just what she was capable of…._

…as though she had just woken up from a bad dream. She could see the power emanating from Glory, but it didn't frighten her at all now. She looked at her arms, noticing that there was energy there as well. She willed Glory's hands away from her throat, and was not at all surprised to see it happen.

"How…" Glory started, "You're just human…"

"Wrong," Jean/not Jean said. "I'm far more that simply human," and she gestured with her hand, throwing Glory up into the sky.

As Glory came hurtling back towards the ground, Jean simply reached out with her mind, and held her in place, about one mile above the earth. Glory started feeling as though she were coming apart, literally, on a molecular level.

"You just keep 'er there a minute," said Rogue, getting to her feet. Then she was gone, flying the opposite direction.

A moment later, a huge booming noise shook the region.

"Thunder?" said Spencer, looking into the clear sky.

"Sonic boom," corrected Nicholas, pointing to the rapidly moving form headed towards Glory.

Jean noticed the form as well, and a spit second before impact, she let go her hold. As Rogue came flying back down to join them, she muttered: "Going, going, gone…"

"Ah think that oughta keep her outta our hair for a while," said Rogue as she landed.

As they looked into the distance, the group could see a meteor making it's way to earth. It seemed that it would probably land somewhere in the middle of the Pacific. All of them knew however, that this was no meteor. They also knew this fight wasn't over.

Jean felt the power leave her, and suddenly she was overcome with weakness.

"Jean!" shouted Scott Summers as the love of his life fell to the ground.


	7. Fondness and Farewells

 VII  Fondness and Farewells 

Nicholas Graydon looked around him at what was left of the piece of forest where the battle had occurred. At best, tonight was a no-score draw.

**_"I think we're finished with the mind-link, Professor,"_** he projected.

**_"Are you certain, Nicholas? Jean's connection was cut off very suddenly,"_** came the telepathic reply.

**_"Hank's giving her a once-over now, but she's still alive,"_** Nicholas thought back, **_"We should be back at the shop pretty soon."_**

**_"Very well then, you can fill me in on the details on your arrival,"_** the Professor acquiesced.

Nicholas felt the link that the Professor had established earlier in the evening fade away.

"I really need a drink," he mumbled quietly. He was rather surprised to see a silver flask stuck in front of his face. His eyes followed the black sleeve to Spike's face, and he raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Bourbon," Spike said, guessing the question.

"Thanks," Nicholas said, taking the offered flask and drinking deep. "Oh yeah, that's the ticket," he stated, handing the flask back to it's owner.

Everyone else had gathered around those who were injured. Fortunately, that number was much lower than it could have been. Having already checked out Ororo, Hank had turned his attentions to Jean.

"I'm not entirely sure," he was telling Scott and Buffy, "But it looks like she suffered some sort of psychic overload."

"It was weird," Buffy said, "Did anyone else see her…glowing?"

"I saw that," piped up Willow, "It was like her aura suddenly went all steroidy or something."

"Is she going to be alright, Hank?" an anxious Scott asked.

"I suspect she'll be fine, fearless leader," Hank replied, "Right now, she just needs some rest."

"I think most of us do," commented Buffy. Turning towards the group as a whole she continued: "Why don't we get out of here. Casa de' Summers has plenty of room for us to recoup."

"If you drop me off at the shop," Nicholas spoke up, "I'll pick up the Professor and Dawn."

"What about our captive," asked Alexis.

"Essex is nothing if not thorough," Nicholas replied, "I suspect he's already gone."

"Essex," Alexis muttered as they prepared to make their way back to the van, "What he did to himself."

"Disturbing, isn't it," commented Hank, carrying an unconscious Ororo, "And he claims that he's a man of science."

"I'd call it sinister…" said Alexis, absent-mindedly scratching Pangor behind the ears, "At least, that's how he looked to me."

*****

As the group made their way through the woods, they were being watched. After they had walked away, Essex stepped out from behind the brush.

"Sinister," Essex said, extending the "s" sounds. "I like it, Ms. Vanadis."

He watched Nicholas Graydon with particular fascination. The man was nothing. To be completely honest with himself, Essex had to consider him less than nothing. And yet, this under-evolved insect had managed to track him across the country, and had almost succeeded in disrupting a very carefully laid plan, with the help of Xavier's children and the Slayer's acolytes. 

"We will meet again, detective," he promised, as the smoke once again rose to claim him.

*****

The group had arrived at the van, and loaded Jean and Ororo in. Suddenly, Buffy noticed something. Something she probably would have noticed a lot sooner if not for the all out war that she had been involved in.

"Uhm, Hank?" she asked, "Before we get back, I think you'd better do something about that."

"About what?" Hank asked, turning to look at her.

Buffy, Rogue, Willow, Anya, and Alexis (by way of Pangor), all looked at him, smiling. Tara turned her head, blushing.

"Woof," said Alexis.

"Absolutely," added Anya.

"Oh, yeah," commented Buffy, "Definitely nothing to be ashamed of. But I really don't want Dawn to…"

"Oh, my…" muttered Hank, suddenly aware that when Essex had experimented on him, the transformation had completely destroyed his clothing.

"Stars and garters?" asked Spencer, tossing Hank a blanket from the back of the van. The embarrassed genius quickly wrapped it around his waist, sighing.

"…something like that, yes…" Hank mumbled, "The addition of a fur pelt to my physiology must have prevented me from feeling the draft…although how I missed this, I am not at all sure…"

"Ro's gonna be sorry **she** missed it," teased Rogue.

"The things you see when your camera's in the shop," commented Nicholas, patting Hank on the shoulder. If one looked closely, a faint red tinge could be seen beneath the blue fur.

As they climbed into the van, squeezing the last few members of the party in, Spike started paying particular attention to Scott Summers. He sat, watching the way that Scott held on to Jean's hand, not paying attention to any of the good natured bantering going on around them.

_What the hell is this?_ Spike thought to himself, _I'm feeling empathy for someone that could give the grand Poof a run for his title._

Deny it as he would, however, the feeling was there. He knew all too well the look on Scott Summers' face, the love he felt for his lady. And it certainly wasn't his fault that Spike's own love was not returned the way Jean returned Scott's. He leaned over towards the concerned lover.

"Hey, mate," he started, "You want I should grab some stuff for the lady from the shop?"

Scott turned and looked at him, and Spike couldn't really read the expression on his face due to the visor covering his eyes. _That's gotta suck_, the vampire thought to himself, _never really being able to let her see into his soul._

"I'd appreciate that," Scott said, "We all should have bags of some form there."

"No problem," Spike said, waiving his hand, "Looks to me like you've got enough on your mind," he added quietly.

"You might want to grab my rental," Scott added, "All the stuff we unloaded from the van earlier could take up a lot of space. The key's are in my jacket pocket." He turned back to his silent vigil.

Buffy and Angel watched the exchange, not saying anything. Each was lost in their individual thoughts on Spike. What he was, and what he had become.

*****

"I've got to ask you something," Nicholas spoke out of nowhere.

He and Spike had been dropped off about two blocks from the shop. They didn't mind the walk, and it allowed the others to get to the Summers residence that much quicker.

"What?"

"Are you Blud Villhelm?" 

Spike stopped walking, causing Nicholas to pass him up. The detective turned to look at the vampire. Spike in turn had a look of absolute amazement on his face.

"How…" Spike started, "How did you know about that?"

"Does the name Sergeant William Graydon ring a bell?" Nicholas asked.

Spike took a new look at Nicholas, comparing the features to a man he had last seen in the trenches of Germany at the end of World War II. Then he saw it, in the eyes, and the shape of the cheekbones.

"Cor," he muttered, "You're Billy's grandkid, aint'cha?"

"And damn proud of it," Nicholas confirmed. "Grandpa told me about getting captured by the Jerrys, and how you and he got out. He also told me of the stories the Germans would tell about Blud Villhelm, and how he only fed on those who followed the party lines."

"Well, yeah," commented Spike as they continued towards the shop, "I mean, the majority of those folks just kinda did as they were told, to survive."

"Why?" Nicholas asked.

"Why what?" Spike countered.

"Why only the Nazis?" Nicholas clarified.

Spike stopped again, thinking. This time, Nicholas wasn't taken by surprise and stopped with him.

"Y'know, the Slayer asked me something like that once," Spike said, "She asked me why I was willing to betray Angelis, and I told her that I didn't want the world sucked into Hell. I liked it the way it was." He paused for a minute, collecting his thoughts.

"It was the same with Hitler," he continued, "I may be a monster, but even before the chip, I knew that I had my place in the natural order of things. Hitler's plans for this world didn't leave a whole lot of room for that. Once he started roundin' up the gypsies, that was real clear. It was war. War changes things."

"So you took the fight to them, dressed like a British soldier," Nicholas finished. "You still got the lighter?"

Spike pulled his beaten old Zippo from his jean pocket.

"Never leave the crypt without it," he said smiling. 

"Bill will be glad to hear that," Nicholas replied.

"He's still alive?" Spike asked.

"Eighty nine and still kicking," Nicholas said.

"Good for him. Tell him I still got his lighter, and I'm still using it."

That was when they heard the scream.

"Dawn," they said simultaneously, breaking into a run.

*****

As soon as Buffy had unlocked the door and let everyone in, the scene resembled some bizarre form of controlled chaos.

Ororo had started to revive on the trip to the house, and was now being supported on both sides by Remy and Rogue. The latter now wore the Cajun's trench-coat, which he had graciously offered as soon as they had headed towards the van. At Buffy's direction, they headed towards the Slayer's bedroom, intending to let Ororo get some rest.

Scott carried Jean in and headed straight for the living room couch with her, Hank directly behind him. Once he had determined that Jean was in no need of immediate attention, Hank asked Buffy about some first aid supplies, which she retrieved from the kitchen.

Alexis and Giles had already set up shop in the kitchen, and were pulling together sandwich makings and similar foodstuffs. A pot of coffee was going, and the aroma quickly found it's way around the house.

Cordelia reached into Angel's breast pocket and retrieved his cell phone. 

"Going to check the messages," she informed him, heading towards the back porch in order to maximize the quiet.

Buffy had returned with the first aid supplies, and sent Willow, Xander, Anya, and Tara off to find every spare blanket and pillow they could scrounge up. 

"Looks like we're going to have a crew here tonight," she told them. 

Hank and Spencer cleared off the dining room table, and Hank immediately started calling everyone in one at a time to check on any minor injuries that had been suffered. It seemed that all of them had come out mostly for the best, but there were a number of potentially dangerous gashes to be delt with.

"Remind me to get your brother in here to get a look at his ribs," Hank told Spencer at one point. Spencer in turn began snorting.

"Yeah, that's really going to happen," he chuckled.

"Trust me, my friend," Hank replied, finishing a bandage on Gunn's shoulder, "I can be very persuasive."

All the bedding that could possibly be had was now deposited in one corner of the living room, and the furniture had been moved aside to clear as much room as possible. Scott hadn't moved from Jean's side the entire time. He would occasionally offer some perspective if asked a question, but aside from that, Jean's condition held the whole of his attention.

Cordelia came back into the house, and quickly found the rest of the Angel Investigations crew.

"We've got a message from Lorne," she told them, "I couldn't tell exactly what it was, something about a demon suddenly appearing onstage at Caritas. Which doesn't sound that unusual to me, but he was freaked. Said we need to get back as soon as we can."

"We don't have a car here," Wesley reminded her, "And we won't be able to get one for several hours yet."

"Take mine," Scott spoke up.

"Beg pardon?" Wesley asked.

"Spike's brining it back from the Magic Box, and we don't need it any longer. Take it to get back to LA, and drop it off for me." He never took his eyes from Jean's face while he talked, but the tone of his voice was strong and certain. He'd obviously thought about this while they discussed the message, and come to a conclusion. He was thinking about the others, even while he was worried about his lady.

_This man is going to make one hell of a leader, someday,_ Angel thought to himself. Out loud he asked: "You sure?"

Scott looked up this time.

"Absolutely, I think that Spencer will give us a lift back to the Blackbird," he commented. Spencer gave him thumbs up from the other side of the room.

Angel looked across the room to Buffy, who simply smiled at him.

"Go," she said, "You're a champion, remember? Sometime that means being where you're needed instead of where you're wanted."

*****

Professor Charles Xavier was quite helpless in this situation. 

Their captive had managed to free himself, and now was using Dawn as a hostage. Xavier couldn't use his mental abilities on the oriental, for fear of the results. He was, however, able to keep enough control of his mind to keep Sung's power from striking offensively.

"I am impressed, Professor," the oriental said, "The amount of control it must take to lock down your mind so that I can't affect it."

"Let me go!" Dawn cried out, held by her neck in the crook of the man's arm. "I'm warning you…"

"What?" asked Sung, "Do you intend to whine me to death?"

At that point, the front door to the shop was flung open, revealing a very upset Nicholas Graydon. 

"I'll do a lot worse that whine," Nicholas said clearly, raising one of his pistols to eye level. "Dawn, don't move."

Sung knew that Nicholas would probably make the shot, so he started raising Dawn up in front of his face as a shield when he was spun around from behind. Spike was staring at him, full game face on.

"Bad idea," the vampire muttered.

"Chip, remember?" asked Sung, throwing a punch with his free hand.

"Mutant, remember?" replied Spike, grabbing Sung's fist and starting to squeeze. "Oh, that's right. You were out of that little conversation." He suddenly reached forward with his other hand, grabbing Dawn and pulling her out of Sung's grasp.

"Go limp, bit," he commanded. Throwing her out of harms way, he shouted out, "Nick, catch!"

"…you sunnuva…" Nicholas muttered, holstering his weapon and running to catch the now screaming Dawn. He launched himself over the railing that surrounded the depressed center of the shop, grabbing her as she flew towards the bookshelves.

Dawn instinctively wrapped herself around Nicholas as they met, allowing him to curl up and take the brunt of the landing himself. As they rolled to a stop near the Professor's wheelchair, he let out the breath he'd been holding. He had ended up on his back, with Dawn on top of him.

"Come here often?" he smiled at her.

"Nice catch," Xavier commented as Dawn blushed. 

"I thought so," replied Nicholas, gently moving Dawn so he could get back to his feet.

He stood up just in time to see the oriental go flying through the shop, landing in front of the door. 

Sung was an intelligent man, and as such, realized his chances of winning this battle were non-existent. He ran out the open door and into the night. 

"One more shot to the ribs and I'm calling it a night…" Nicholas muttered, leaning against the railing.

Spike came running over to Dawn, kneeling down to grab her shoulders and look in her eyes.

"You all right, nibblet?" he asked.

Dawn looked into Spike's eyes and didn't say anything. Instead she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight.

"Thank you…" she whispered.

"Anytime," he whispered back.

*****

As the two vehicles pulled up to 1630 Revello, noise could be heard from within. On the porch, the crew of Angel Investigations was saying their goodbyes.

Angel had just finished hugging Buffy and was exiting the house. As he turned from the door, he found himself face to face with Spike, who was carrying the luggage from the car.

"Spike."

"Poofter."

"Keep an eye on Dawnie."

"Of course."

"Good."

And that was it. Cordelia meanwhile was chatting amicably with Alexis.

"So you know Lorne from way back?" she asked.

"Well, when he first opened the club, we ran into each other. The rest is history," Alexis told her.

Cordelia reached over and scratched Pangor behind the ears, a gesture the Norwegian Forrest had no difficulty accepting. 

"You end up back in LA, we'll go for drinks, right?"

"You got it," Alexis responded, she reached out and gave the young seer a tight hug.

"See a doctor about something to help with the headaches," she whispered, "And take care of yourself."

"I always do," Cordelia replied, smiling. Then she made her way to the bottom of the steps, joining Angel, Gunn and Wesley in saying farewell to Nicholas, Xavier, and Dawn.

"…so Scott suggested we take his rental back to LA, beat the sunrise." Gunn was explaining. "Not sure exactly what it is Lorne needs, but the message sounded urgent."

"Makes sense," Nicholas said, shaking hands with the demon-hunter. "You guys take it easy."

"You know it," replied Gunn, heading towards the car.

"Wesley, I have the crystal right here…" Professor Xavier started.

"Keep it, Professor," Wesley replied. "I have Hank's email address, I'll forward the spoken components of the spell to him. I think the spyglass will do you more good than it will us."

Xavier shook hands with the ex-watcher, replying: "I'll put it to good use, my friend."

Having said goodbye to Dawn, Angel was the last to climb in the car. Gunn started up the engine, and pulled into the street, honking the horn twice in final farewell.

As Nicholas worked the Professor's wheelchair up the stairs to the porch, Xander, Anya, Willow and Tara came through the door.

"Looks like we'd just be in the way here," Xander commented, jumping down the stairs to assist Nicholas "We're going to head home for the night, catch up with everyone over donuts in the morning."

"Besides, that way we can have sex to work off the adrenaline from all the fighting," Anya added.

No one replied to this, although several looked as though their brains had just short-circuited.

"…did not need to know that…" whispered Dawn.

"Uh, yeah, well," picked up Willow, "Goodnight everybody!"

And the Scoobie gang made their way down the porch steps and into the night.

Finally, the last members of the nights work made their way into the house. 

Nicholas reached into one of his pockets, and pulled out an immense pair of spandex bicycle shorts. He gratefully accepted the cup of coffee that Giles offered him upon his entry to the house.

"Stopped at Goodwill on the way back," he told the Watcher.

"They were open?" he asked.

"Not exactly," he admitted. In answer to the look that Alexis shot him he added, "I left them money on the counter and locked the door behind me. Hey, Hank! Catch!" He tossed the oversized garment towards the startled scientist. 

As Hank caught the pair of shorts with one hand, he held his blanket up with the other. 

"Oh, yes," he commented, eyeing the garment suspiciously, "Much easier to deal with."

Dawn meanwhile, had gotten her first look at Henry McCoy, and stood, staring, her mouth dropped open.

"Dawn?" asked Buffy.

Dawn didn't say a word. She simply turned and ran up the stairs as fast as she could.

Buffy turned towards Hank, a look of apology written on her face. 

"I'll go talk…" she started.

"No, it's alright," Hank sighed. "I'd better get used to…"

They were interrupted by a shriek of pure teenage delight, followed by the triumphant shout of "That is so cool!"

The sound of returning footsteps came pounding down the stairs, and Dawn burst back into the room grinning. She looked around until she spotted Hank, and immediately ran over to him.

"HiI'mDawn," she said, "Sorrytorunofflikethat, butIhadtofindHenrytobesureandthisisjusttoofreakybutcoolyouknow?"

"Dawn," Buffy said, "Breathe. Oxygen good, remember?"

Hank meanwhile, was simultaneously attempting to re-secure his blanket, translate the gibberish Dawn was speaking into English, and get some idea of what was happening. The first was accomplished quite readily; particularly in light of the practice he'd had in the last hour. The second and third however, seemed a bit more vexing.

"Okay," Dawn sighed, "When I was a little girl, my mom used to tell me these stories, right? All about Henry, a monster that lived under my bed. He was a good monster, though. He took care of little girls, and they had great adventures."

Buffy had an idea where this was heading.

"Dawn, do you mean..?"

"Yup!" Dawn announced. She held the object she'd retrieved from her room up like a trophy. "Mom made this years ago," she announced, "Henry, my under the bed monster."

"Oh, my stars and garters…" whispered Hank. The doll was a dead ringer for him in his current state. Slightly exaggerated in the facial features, but nonetheless, very recognizable as one Henry McCoy, PhD and furry mutant. Dawn held the toy out to him, and he took it gently. "That's remarkable." 

"Not quite anatomically correct, however," Alexis whispered to Nicholas, causing the later to choke on his coffee.

"Looks to me like you've found your calling, Hank," came a weak voice from the couch.

"Jean!" Scott said, turning back towards the redhead. Like the others, his attention had been captured by Dawn's shriek, and the amazing similarities between Hank and the stuffed doll.

"Alive and kicking, love," Jean said softly. "Although, I think a tango is doubtful."

"Jean," Scott started, "What…"

"Not now, Scott," Jean replied. "Later."

Scott took her at her word and asked no more questions.

*****

Charles Xavier was reading a copy of Thomas Costain's 'Below the Salt' that had been sitting on the bedside table. Everyone had agreed that Joyce's old bedroom would be best for him. It was the largest, and actually had enough room for him to maneuver his wheelchair to the side of the bed. Getting him upstairs had been an interesting challenge, however. Hank, resplendent in his new spandex shorts, had finally whisked the Professor up out of his chair and carried him up the stairs. Nicholas and Spencer followed with his chair. 

Xavier looked up as a soft tapping came at the door.

"Yes?" he answered.

"Professor," came Buffy's voice, "Can I talk to you?"

"Of course, Buffy," he replied, adjusting himself into a sitting position, "Come in."

The young Slayer entered the room, and at Xavier's prompting, took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Costain, huh?" she asked.

"Yes, I've always enjoyed his work." Xavier told her.

"So did Mom," Buffy said, "I think there's probably a dozen or so in the basement. She liked to read." 

There was silence for a moment, Buffy lost in her thoughts, and Xavier not wanting to interrupt.

"I only met your mother once," Xavier said finally, "But I do wish I had gotten to know her better. She seemed to be so very full of life. And she really seemed devoted to Scott."

"She was like that," Buffy answered, "She always worried about family more than herself. I think…" she hesitated a moment, deciding her words, "I think that's why I want to talk to you. I need you to do a favor for me."

"If I can, I will," Xavier told her earnestly.

"I need you to make sure that Scott doesn't try to stay here and help us against Glory."

This statement took Xavier aback. The situation with Glorificus was potentially the most dangerous that the Slayer had ever faced.

"Are you saying that you don't want our help?" he asked.

"No!" she responded quickly, "I **want** you all to stay, but I can't let you."

"I'm afraid you've lost me, Buffy."

Buffy sighed, and raised her knees up to rest her chin on.

"Glory's going to come back," she said, "And sooner or later she's going to figure out that Dawn's the Key. When she does, we may have to make a run for it, and small groups hide better than large ones."

Xavier mulled this over for a moment before responding.

"We could take Dawn back to Westchester with us. And you as well," he offered.

"Already thought about that one, Prof.," she responded. "If Dawn disappears, that'll probably be the last piece Glory needs to put the puzzle together. If she disappears with Scott, then she'll not only figure out that Dawn's the Key, but where she went. You run a school, Professor, and schools have lots of children in attendance. Mutants or not, I don't like the thought of them going up against someone like Glory." She held up her hand, indicating that she knew the next line of thought the Professor was going to present. "I know, the X-Men are there too. But the X-Men already have a mission. They have to guard the rest of us from mutants like Magneto. I watch the news, Professor, and I've seen glimpses of Scott and the others from time to time, now that I know what I was seeing. Glory would wait until something like Ellis Island happened, drawing the team away. Then she'd take the school."

Xavier let this line of logic settle into his mind. Buffy had a point, there were already weaknesses in the schools security system that would have to be dealt with. Add to that, a being of Glory's sheer power and cunning, and the situation could be deadly. And the children, he could not risk their lives.

"Very well, Buffy," he sighed, "I don't like leaving you and Dawn in a situation such as this, but you bring up some very good points. And I can trust the group that you have to support you. I've seen that. I'll agree on one condition."

"What's that?"

"If you need us, you call," the Professor looked her straight in the eyes. "I mean it, Buffy. No unnecessary heroics. If there is any indication that you're going to face Glory directly, contact us immediately. I've lost far to much family already, as has Scott."

Buffy leaned over and hugged Xavier.

"I will," she said.

*****

Buffy closed the door gently behind her after wishing the Professor a good night. She hated the decision that she had made, but saw no way around it. Glory might not be the quickest on the uptake, but she wasn't entirely stupid either. 

Having given her own room up to Jean and Scott, she stopped at Dawn's door before heading downstairs. Hank had promised to tuck her in, on the condition that she told him one of the stories of Henry, the Under the Bed Monster. 

Quietly pushing the door open, she heard the sound of Dawn's quiet breathing before she saw anything. As her eyes adjusted to the moonlight, she saw Hank stretched out on the bed with a very soundly sleeping Dawn curled up against him. She had maneuvered herself so that she was wrapped completely around one of his massive arms.

 Hank opened his eyes, and seeing Buffy in the doorway, gestured with his free hand for her to come around to the other side of the bed. The chair that he had originally sat on was there, and she pulled it up close so they could whisper.

"How long has she been like that?" she asked.

"Almost immediately after she talked me into laying here," he answered. "Pity, I only got to hear about a third of the story." Buffy grinned at that.

"I'm sure you'll hear the rest later," she assured him. "You okay here?"

"I'm fine," Hank responded, "In fact, I think this is the most comfortable I've been in days. Let her sleep."

Buffy looked over at her sister, a soft smile pulling on her mouth as she watched Dawn snuggle deeper into Hank's fur. Then she looked over and saw Hank's expression mirrored her own.

_The world's largest teddy bear,_ she thought. She leaned over and kissed Hank on the forehead.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"No, thank you," Hank corrected. 

Buffy bid him a goodnight, and made her way downstairs to find a place to crash.

*****

Rogue awoke with a start, uncertain as to where she was. Slowly, as her vision cleared and her pulse slowed, she remembered the events of the previous night. Looking at the window, she figured it to be just after eight in the morning. She glanced around the room, noticing that the majority of those who had ended up on the living room floor were still asleep. The immediately noticeable exceptions were Ororo, who had been resting on the couch when Rogue claimed her spot, and Alexis, who had curled up with Pangor in front of the fireplace about four.

As she sat up, intending to head towards the coffee she smelled, she noticed Remy's coat had been placed over her at some point. Buffy had been kind enough to lend her some light clothes for sleeping in, so he hadn't placed it there to keep her skin covered. She pulled the worn material up to her face and inhaled, breathing deep the scent. Then she stood, wrapping the coat around her like a robe, and made her way to the kitchen.

As she entered the kitchen, she saw that not only were Alexis and Ororo there, but so were Buffy and Giles. Giles had just finished preparing tea for himself and Ororo, and Alexis and Buffy both had steaming mugs of coffee in front of them. Pangor sat contentedly at his mistress's feet, a completely emptied sardine tin in front of him. Alexis was talking into her cell phone.

"…okay, so keep your people away from this one," she was saying, "No, I mean it Donald. Yes, I know they're good reporters, but this is way out of their league. Alright, promise? Word of honor, dammit! Good. Yeah, you too. Bye." She closed the phone and turned to Buffy.

"The quote unquote meteor landed just off Baker Island in the Republic of Kiribati. It's a bit east of Australia. US territory, but it should take Glory a few days to get back here."

Buffy took a sip of her coffee, mulling over the information.

"Good, then we've got a day or so to recover," she said.

"Mornin'," Rogue mumbled. 

"Oh, thank the gods you're not one of those hideous morning people," Alexis responded. Buffy just pointed towards the coffee mugs that lay on the counter. 

As Rogue made her way to the coffee, she heard voices on the back porch. 

"Who's out there?" she asked.

"Nicholas, Remy, and Logan," Ororo answered her. "They all elected to simply remain awake through the night." She nodded her thanks to Giles, and sipped at her tea.

"Spike was out there too, till a couple of hours ago," Buffy added, "He had to get back to his crypt before he got all flamey."

Rogue grabbed one of the mugs on the countertop, and gasped as it immediately shattered into dust.

"Rogue!" Ororo exclaimed, standing up and heading towards her friend, "Are you alright?"

"Ah'm fine, 'Ro", the young Mississippian replied, "Look's like this strength is going ta stay with me for a while, though," she gently took a second mug, and filled it with coffee. "It's gonna take some gettin' used ta."

"I remember when I first became the Slayer," Buffy said, "I had the same problem for a week or so. Just be careful with the eggs," she finished sagely.

"Sound advice indeed," came the Professor's voice from the doorway.

Rogue looked wonderingly at him. He was already dressed, and sitting in his usual wheelchair.

"How'd you get downstairs, Professor?" she asked.

"Child," the Professor said gently, "I've been in a wheelchair since before you were born, and the first thing I learned is that it's very much an easier task to get down a set of stairs while in a wheelchair, than it is to get up one." He wheeled his way over to the stove, and turned on the kettle.

"I don't suppose you have any Earl Grey?" he asked Buffy.

"Matter of fact," Buffy started standing up, "That was Mom's favorite. I think there's some…"

"I've got it, Buffy," said Giles, already up and at the cabinet in question. He quickly found the box and pulled out one of the aromatic bags. "Here we are," he said, moving to the tap in order to scald a cup for the Professor.

"Thank you," Xavier responded, "I find myself a bit difficult to cope with unless I have a good cup of tea in the morning."

Several nods responded affirmatively to his statement. Then the quiet morning was broken by an extremely enthusiastic shout from outside.

"Bloody hell!" said Giles, "What was that?"

"It sounded like Dawn," Buffy said as they all headed towards the door.

None of them were prepared for the sight that awaited them. Hank was bounding around the yard, and holding on around his neck, grinning as wide as she could, was Dawn. He landed in the center of the yard, then immediately sprung forward towards the fence. Grabbing the top of the fence in one hand, he grabbed a sturdy branch with his feet and swung out, gaining enough momentum that when he released on the return swing, he was able to flip around in mid air and land on the roof of the house.

"Dawn!" Buffy started, obviously concerned.

"Relax, chere," Remy said with a smile, "Hank won' let anyt'ing 'appen t' the petite."

"…ugh, morning people," Alexis mumbled, "Death to all morning people."

Hank propelled the two of them around the yard like that for a good fifteen minutes, and by the end of it, the onlookers were cheering the two of them from the back porch.

"Here we go, D," he said as he did a one handed somersault off the swingset, "Big finish!" So saying, he reached around his back and tossed Dawn up into the air.

Hank landed on his feet in the center of the yard, catching a hysterically laughing Dawn in his arms as she fell back to Earth.

Looking at her sister, laughing for the first time in weeks, Buffy came to a decision. Tomorrow they would talk about Glory, and start working on what they should do. Today, however, was different. Today they could breathe. Today they could rest. And today, today was going to be the first day in a long time that everyone who was in this house would have one normal day.

She looked again at Dawn, giggling as Hank set her to the ground.

"Normal as we can possibly have, at any rate," she mumbled, smiling.

*****

By ten o'clock, the entire group had been roused up, and Xander, Anya, Willow, and Tara had arrived with the promised doughnuts.

The first thing Buffy did once everyone was awake was to announce her decision. Not surprisingly, it was very well received. The congregation broke up into smaller groups, and easygoing conversation was filling the air.

Giles had made a brief run to his apartment to get showered and changed. When he returned, he carried his guitar with him. Spencer surprised everyone by pulling three more from the back of his van. It seemed that he, his brother, and Alexis played as well. Scott asked if he could borrow one for a moment, surprising Buffy. Nicholas handed his over, claiming to be the weakest link, and the remaining musicians found a corner of the living room and began to play.

Nicholas volunteered to do the cooking for the day, stating that cooking was one of the few things that relaxed him. Remy offered his assistance, which was quickly accepted. The two of them moved into the kitchen, raiding the freezer and the cabinets, and planning a feast that all would remember.

Logan had changed into jeans and a tee shirt, and wrangled the keys to Spencer's van in order to make a beer run. He quickly found himself with a large list as everyone present asked him to pick up his or her particular favorite snacking food.

*****

Logan had just returned from his trip, and the various snack foods had been passed out to their appropriate owners, when Nicholas' cell phone started to chirp.

He looked at the caller ID and groaned.

"Yes?" he said into the mouthpiece.

"Meet me out back in two minutes," came the response.

"You want a beer?"

"Hello, Graydon," the voice answered, "This is me you're talking to."

"Got it," Nicholas replied, heading towards the fridge. He turned towards Remy as he walked.

"I've got to meet someone, back in a bit," he said.

The Cajun looked at him for a second, then understanding dawned in his expression. He nodded his head and returned to the prep work for the jambalaya. Nicholas grabbed two of the Linenkugel's Honey Wiese he'd requested and stepped out onto the back porch.

He hadn't been there for more than a moment when a slight shimmer appeared in his peripheral vision, down towards the edge of the yard. He turned and walked down the stairs towards the disturbance, and watched the tall, bald, well-dressed black man appear from nowhere. He held one of the brews to the newcomer. The man accepted it readily, a slight smile pulling the edges of his goatee.

"Never get tired of that little gadget, do you?" Nicholas asked.

"You're just jealous that you don't get one," the man replied, taking the beer.

"I don't need one," Nicholas said with a smile. "I do that all the time."

The man smiled, his one good eye glinting in the afternoon sun. The other was hidden behind a black eye-patch, and the scars that crept out from underneath indicated that the loss was not a pleasant one.

"I'd love to bullshit for a while Graydon," he said, "But I'm not even here." He held out a manila folder, taking a deep drink of the beer Nicholas had given him.

"What's this?" Nicholas asked, taking the folder and opening it.

"What I found looking for Walsh's financial partners," the newcomer said, leaning against the railing. "Keep in mind, we don't have any of this information, officially."

Nicholas flipped through the pages for a moment, then looked up at the other man.

"Friends of Humanity?" he asked. "Isn't this a bit beyond them?"

"Well, that's what I thought too," came the reply, "Seems they've gotten some deep pockets in the last few years. Check out the memo towards the end."

"Approved," Nicholas read aloud, "By Bastion. Who the hell is Bastion?"

"That," the man said, "Is what you are going to have to find out."

"Great," Nicholas replied, "Can I at least take this to Xavier? He'd have a much better chance of understanding the technical aspects of it. What the hell are 'Nano-Cybernetics' anyway?"

"As far as I'm concerned," the other responded, "You can do whatever you want. That's what I hired you for remember? Just so long as no one ever finds out where this information came from." He looked towards the back door just in time to see a flash of blonde hair as someone ducked away from the window. "Who's the blonde?"

"Probably the Slayer," Nicholas replied. "I'll make sure she understands."

"Good," the visitor said, finishing off his beer. "Thanks for the brew," he touched his belt buckle and the air around him shimmered. Then he simply vanished.

"You're welcome," Nicholas said, smirking. He gathered up the empty bottles and headed back inside.

Sure enough, Buffy was standing just inside the door. Nicholas looked at her as he deposited the empty bottles in the trash.

"You saw nothing," he said quietly, "Absolutely nothing, okay?"

"Right," the Slayer replied, "Like anyone would believe I saw the evil pirate version of Mr. Clean anyway. That eye-patch for real?"

Nicholas started laughing, and finally had to sit down before he fell over.

*****

Quiet. The house was quiet. Buffy Summers sat in the living room and looked around. Everything had been cleaned up, all the bedding had been put away, and the furniture had been moved back to its usual placement.

And it was quiet. 

She was right to have pulled the Professor in on her thoughts. Scott was adamant about staying until Glory had been taken care of. Then the three of them, Buffy, Scott, and Xavier, had retired into the kitchen and discussed it. At the end, Scott agreed. 

He and Buffy both cried for a little while. And made each other lots of promises.

And now, it was quiet.

Dawn had gone up to bed shortly after everyone had left. Buffy had checked in on her a little while ago, and found her sound asleep with Henry, the doll version, held close.

The day of normalcy was over. 

Giles came out of the kitchen where he had been putting away the last load of dishes.

"I believe that's everything," he told her. "How are you doing?"

"I'm alright," she responded. "Just wishing we could have more days like today."

"I can understand that," Giles said, sitting down next to her on the couch. "It was good to see you smiling."

"Hmmm," Buffy said, "You too. And Dawnie, god, I think she's in love with Hank."

"Don't be dramatic," Giles told her, "But she is rather attached to him. And he to her, I suspect."

"Certainly looked that way to me," Buffy agreed, "Which is definitely of the good."

Buffy looked at the business card that Alexis had given her. Simple ivory stock with an embossed "VI" in the center, and a phone number in the lower right corner.

"Six?" she had asked. Nick had snickered at that.

"No 'I told you so' from you, thank you," Alexis told him. Then she had turned to Buffy. "It was supposed to be 'Vanadis Investigations'. But, 'Six' works too."

Buffy smiled at the memory.

"Well, I suppose I should be heading home," Giles said, standing. Buffy reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Giles, wait," she said, "This sounds kind of silly, I know, but…could you stay one more night? You could have Mom's room."

Giles looked at his young charge, gently.

"Oh, never mind," Buffy said, "It's just stupid."

"No," Giles corrected her, "It's not stupid, Buffy. You have never been stupid. A bit thick at times, perhaps," he added smiling.

"Okay, I deserved that for some of the things I've said in the past," she admitted, "It's just, our one day isn't quite over with yet, and I'm not ready to be the adult in this house."

"Well then," Giles said, sitting back down and pulling his…daughter close. "What say we see if there's anything on the telly for a while?"

And there was a few more hours of normalcy at the house on Revello Drive.


	8. Epilogue - Decisions and Disasters

Epilogue

Decisions and Disasters

Alexis Vanadis stood on the asphalt, listening as her employee explained the plan.

"Seems like a lot of folks are getting a bit itchy about this Bastion," Nicholas said, "So I've got to start doing some digging on him."

Alexis absent-mindedly stroked the top of Pangor's head. 

"And you'll be staying at Xavier's?" she asked.

"He seemed kind of insistent on it. I'll probably be doing a lot of traveling, but it does make an ideal base for this kind of thing." He sighed, "Besides, I'm going to help them out with the new security system."

"Sound's reasonable," she replied, "Just watch yourself, alright?"

"I will," Nicholas told her. "What about you?"

"I've checked the messages with Tricia in St. Louis. Seems I've got to go to San Fransico and pay my respects," When Nicholas raised his eyebrow she added, "Prudence."

"Damn," he muttered, "Another one."

"Mm hmm," Alexis responded, "After that, Spencer and I are going to take the van back, so we can stop on the way a few times and check some sources for information on Glory."

"Sounds like a plan," They began walking towards the van, where Spencer stood waiting. "You have any regrets about our arrangement?"

"No," she replied, "It's a bit of a pain having one or all of us called away anytime he asks, but Fury does give us one hell of a stipend for this deal."

"True. It's nice not to have to worry about the bills."

"Is it just me," Spencer asked as they approached, "Or are we always heading off in different directions?"

"It's not you," Nicholas confirmed, slapping his brother on the shoulder. "Watch yourselves."

"You too, bro," Spencer said, opening the door for Alexis.

"Call me with any news," she told Nicholas, leaning up and kissing him on the cheek, "Keep me up to date."

"Of course," he responded, reaching over to scratch Pangor, "See ya, pal. Take care of them," he told the Norwegian Forrest. Pangor simply closed his eyes and purred.

"Ahem," Alexis said, "Better than you did with Glory?"

"You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Nope," she smiled, climbing into her seat. Spencer shut the door and walked over to the driver's side. Nicholas stood back and watched them depart. As the van pulled out of the gates leading to the hanger, he felt a tingle in the back of his mind.

**_"Nicholas,"_** he heard Jean's voice in his head, **_"We're finished prepping for takeoff."_**

**_"On my way,"_** he thought back, watching his two closest friends drive out of sight. He briefly glanced around the airport. He had an unpleasant feeling that he'd be back here soon.

*****

A few days later, in a remote section of central Mexico, Quantas Airlines flight number QF564 came to a spectacular grinding halt. 

At least, Glory defined it at spectacular. The view from the cockpit as the Boeing 747 dived towards the ground at top speed was just…well, amazing. One of those once in a lifetime pleasures, even if you were immortal.

Very few of the humans aboard survived the accident, of course. And those that did would not be able to say anything sensible for the rest of their lives. Like the co-pilot, who simply stared at her, a bit of drool running down his chin, giggling as she removed her hands from the Captain's temples.

She graced him with a smile as she left the wreckage. She hadn't planned on crashing the plane quite this early, but the remote location did mean that no one would be here for a while. And it was still close enough to Sunnydale that she could make it there within a day if she ran. Now that she had fed. 

"And they say airline food is no good," she commented as she started north, feeling better than she had in several days.


	9. Authors Notes

Authors Notes 

**UPDATE: July 19, 2002**

As some of you may have noticed, a couple of passages have been changed since this story was originally let into the wild. I hope that no one is too horribly upset that the Men In Black are no longer visible here, but with some of the things I've got planned out for the future, this will make a lot more sense when certain things start to happen. I also felt the Epilogue was needed to clarify a few points in Preludes to Heartbreak.      djb

**DISCLAIMERS:**

Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, and all related characters belong to Joss Whedon, Dave Greenwalt, Mutant Enemy Productions, and Fox.

The X-Men and all related characters belong to Marvel Entertainment and Fox.

Nick Fury belongs to Marvel Comics (and is based on the Brian Michael Bendis version of Fury from the Ultimates and related series. Nick Fury originally created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby).

The Smoking Man belongs to Ten-Thirteen and Fox (anyone else notice a theme here?)

The Chronicle belongs to Sci-Fi (and I've just found out it's been canned, crap!)

VI (or Vanadis Investigations) and all related characters belong to me. Well, maybe not Pangor, he's a little particular about that sort of thing.

There is no money being made from this. It's just for the fun of it.

**GENERALITIES**:

Feedback: YES!!!!

Archiving: Sure, just drop me a note to let me know where.

Original Character usage: Ask first, please. There's a lot left to explain about these characters. But I would be willing to work with anyone who wanted to use them. Most likely.

Timeline: This story takes place towards the end of Buffy season five and Angel season two. It's been a bit over a year since the events of X-Men the Movie. There are a few changes to cannon on all of the above that were necessary for a story of this nature. I've also combined the personalities of several of the movie characters (most notably, Ororo, whom I've decided really needed the blue eyes and regal bearing, and Sabretooth, who's always been far more cunning and intelligent then shown in the film), with their comic book counterparts, and brought in a couple of characters that currently only exist in the comics universe.

**SPECIFIC NOTES:**

That's it. End of story.

Well, not really. 

What started out as a simple little tale evolved into something I had no idea was coming. And the worst part is, this is all lead up to something else now. I've got some other ideas in mind, and sooner or later they're going to end up coming out. If you want to see them, let me know! 

There are a few things I want to comment on.

Scott's guitar playing, and his being found by Xavier as told to Dawn, were inspired by Minisinoo's wonderful fiction. If you haven't read it, check out:

www.greymalkinlane.com/min/

I'd rank this among the best I've ever seen. 

As I stated at the beginning, this is set in a combined universe of BtVS and X-Men: The Movie. Even though I brought in some characters from the comicverse, the overall character structure and event line should be viewed from a movie perspective.

However, having said that: 

Wolverines dialogue in the cave (post demon slice-n-dice) was adapted from Uncanny X-Men #96, as was Storm's while escaping the cave in. Storm's speech to Glory was adapted from Uncanny X-Men #97. The exchange amongst Buffy, Jean, and Scott on their way to the caves re: Remy was adapted from a similar discussion in X-Men #1. Chris Claremont originally wrote all of these, and they just screamed in my brain to be used.

The Buffy/Angel Timeline should be considered cannon through season 5/2 and the first part of season 6/3. After that, should I continue with my plans, we go into a serious Alternate Universe situation.

…oh, and if you think I've left anything hanging, I haven't. It's just that this part of the story is done…

I truly hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Sincerely,

The Owl

(DJB)


End file.
